Shifting Sands
by BindleBaum
Summary: Set after 2x09 Christmas Special . Follows Tom and Sybil Branson back from Dublin to Downton Abbey for a visit. Because I am impatient for the next series to start and I can't get enough of this couple!
1. Chapter 1

Sybil made her way home from work through the familiar streets of Dublin, head down in another April shower and smiled as she turned the final corner to see her husband's motorcycle parked up. She never liked it when he was out past dark in bad weather on it, snaking through the hordes of motorcars to make his way to some newsworthy event or other, and although the nights were starting to get shorter the heaviness of the sky brought the darkness forwards to early evening. She tried to hide her overprotectiveness and worry from Tom on the matter of his bike but still said a silent prayer of thanks every time she saw it there in one piece. More than once she had seen the results of motorcycle accidents in the hospital where she worked; more than once she had seen a mop of blonde hair caked in blood and stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity.

As she made her way through the flat's front door and started to haul herself up the flights of stairs she started really hoping that Tom had been home long enough to get dinner started. She was hungry and exhausted, the pregnancy taking it out of her and making it increasingly hard to spend much of the day on her feet. She knew it would not be long until she could not keep it up, but loved her work so much and felt she was making a positive difference that she was not quite ready to stop just yet. She did find herself getting more emotional at the sad scenes she witnessed as she had found herself on another completely different battleground in a very different yet no less serious war here in Ireland.

Tom had been home for about half an hour and after quickly changing out of his wet clothes, he picked up the mail and took it with him to the kitchen. He had spent the day going about his business as quickly as possible to get home before Sybil so he could cook for once. He didn't mind cooking but she was usually the first one back on a weekday so did most of it. Although he tried to cover it up, he was worried about her still working this late on in her pregnancy. He could tell she was starting to get overly tired and emotional, but he didn't want to get overprotective of her and closet her away; it was her choice. He couldn't help how he felt about it, and was concerned she would see it as being as anti-women's rights as her upbringing so he was determined to control the way he portrayed his fears.

Once before he had fumbled his way through a conversation he found important with Sybil, when he first tried to convince her to bet on him and have a relationship together, and he knew it hadn't gone all that well. So now he was determined to try to order his impulsive mind and try to work out what to say to her. His hands dexterously chopped the vegetables for the soup and cut the loaf of bread while he decided that it would be far better to ask what her plans were in terms of continuing with work than to tell her his thoughts on it to start off with. There was no harm in his discussing it with her, as long as he made sure she knew he would support her decision. He planned to relax her this evening – do the cooking and wash the dishes, and prepare lunch for tomorrow while she relaxed with the book on Catherine the Great she had started 2 weeks ago and had barely made any headway with, and then he would sit with her feet up and massage her feet and ankles – he knew from his observations and what he knew of pregnant women from his female relatives that they would be very swollen. That would give him a step into which to broach the subject.

His hand brushed against the small pile of letters and he stopped in his task, soup deliciously simmering away, to look at them. One was from a cousin of his in Cork which made him smile, one he recognised as being to Sybil in her mother's handwriting which made him frown. She received letters from her mother about once a week and they tended to be nice, but still set her in some level of gloom, perhaps from missing her family but more so, he suspected, from her father's grudge against their lives. His absence from the letters was all too noticeable.

Before she had gotten pregnant herself, Sybil had helped to set up a way by which mothers could continue working but in supporting each other. She had spent many a night looking at timetables and financial considerations before finalising a proposal she had made to the hospital. After a few amendments she had been shocked that they had accepted and at once a number of pregnant women had signed up to the scheme. Before long mothers who had not been working at the hospital in some time returned and it was heralded a success. Of course, the hospital took the credit but Sybil didn't care – she had made a real difference in the lives of her colleagues. Many of them knew precisely who to thank – the English girl they had once scorned was the one who made it possible for them to consider having a family while not sacrificing their independence in its entirety. And it was good for the hospital as well – they had many people coming in all the time from the products of the war and could not keep training up nurses just for them to go off to have children a year or two later.

Tom remembered with a smile how gleeful she had been and he was sure it was during that time of celebration that their first child had been conceived. He was so proud of her, and delighted in writing about the scheme in his paper. But then he also remembered that when he asked her if she had told her family about it she had quietly replied she did not intend to – they would not understand. His own mother, who tried at first to dislike Sybil but found she could not, was impressed though slightly uncertain about the new way of things according to Sybil's plan; but it only went to highlight how she would never get that level of appreciation from her own family.

Still, he supposed, he would have to give her the letter as no matter what was inside, it was better than the silence from her father and if she started to think her mother was not writing she would surely get far more down about the situation. As anticipated Lady Cora was very animated in her replies about her coming grandchild but it made Lord Grantham's silence all the more noticeable, and Tom still felt frustrated that Lady Cora seemed willing to go against her husband to see her unborn grandchild, apparently welcoming them all to go to visit and planning on coming to Dublin, but would not do so for Sybil alone. Not for the first time he wished Sybil did not have any ties at Downton anymore. He felt bad for thinking it, but they were so happy all of the time that they didn't get reminded of Downton that he felt it was their one cloud; though he knew if it were gone for good Sybil would never be happy so that was something he really did not want.

He smiled as he looked at her name on the letter. "Mrs Sybil Branson". Lady Cora was very good at diplomacy and was the only one to write to her using that name, a name which Tom felt fitted her very well. He was amazed at how quickly they had settled into married life. Every aspect just seemed to work out perfectly and they were in sync with each other. Yes, they squabbled a little but he rather enjoyed that, and he knew she did too, and it was never anything serious. He had heard so many of his friends report that a sweetheart who had been intended for so long as a wife had seemed so different after marriage, and he was sure that the wives felt the same way about their husbands. But Sybil was as perfect for him as ever and he loved her more with every breath he took, even when they were apart. He loved the fact that she had changed from nursing English gentry and nobility to nursing the poorest of the poor from Ireland without a second thought. He loved how she made such an effort with his family and had earned their trust and respect where they had not anticipated giving it. And he loved how well she seemed to understand him and support his desires to make his country a better, freer and fairer place to live. Not once did she roll her eyes or get fed up when he started on a diatribe for an hour about the same subjects that haunted him and many times she had gladly spent an evening poring over some article he was writing and giving her comments. Now that she felt free to share her love for him he found she was a very loving and passionate woman and he had never felt so loved, often finding her watching him as he went about everyday life and smiling so elatedly. Their house might be small but it was the epitome of all happiness.

Today, however, this happiness was pierced by the third letter in the pile. "Mr T & Lady S Branson." The script was extremely fine and the envelope even more delicate than the usual ones from Sybil's family. His curiosity piqued, he opened the letter as it was addressed to him as much as to his wife, and read with eyes and mouth wide that they were invited to Lady Mary and Mr Matthew's wedding in June. He had been wondering whether Lady Mary had already married Sir Richard, and that they had not been invited since all mention of it had been omitted in letters to them, but now here was the summons he realised he had been dreading more than finding them overlooked in the wedding guest list.

He was pleased for them both – sort of. He could not help but think that, however much they loved each other, Mr Matthew was far too nice for Lady Mary. Sybil had defended Mary more than once but he found it hard to like her much with her steadfast stance against him. Sybil had even defended that point, trying to explain how much her parents focussed on her when they were growing up and how impossible it was for her to break any boundaries. Before their wedding she had managed to convince him to make friends with her sisters when they came over for their special day. He was glad that they at least made the effort for Sybil. But his mother later reported to him that she overheard more than once, and on the night before and on the morning of the wedding, that Lady Mary was trying to talk her sister out of it. Perhaps that was the only reason she had come to Dublin in the first place! But nevertheless her plan had not worked, and the responses Sybil had given her made Tom's mother really like her properly for the first time and believe in them as a couple. She openly spoke to Sybil before the ceremony about how happy she was for her son and gave her new daughter-in-law her grandmother's necklace. They had been very close ever since and Mary just had a sour face most of the day, which only brought more joy to most of the Bransons. Lady Edith fared a fair bit better, but she had gotten herself mucky on a farm, driven and proved invaluable in the convalescent home. She drank beer with the best of them and even danced with several of the men Mary had turned her nose up to. She seemed to enjoy her resumed freedom and he felt sure she would do well to leave the confines of Downton Abbey as well. She seemed less certain than her younger sister, however, and he felt for her.

That seemed to be one problem the elder two Crawley sisters had. Both of them had been madly in love before – Mary with Matthew and Edith with Patrick – but neither of them had been willing to put any risk into the venture, and now both were alone and heartsick at their little sister's wedding. That sister had risked everything but was consequently exuberantly happy, only the absence of her parents marred the day for her, and she was determined it would barely do that. He could see regret in both of their eyes and wondered at them trying to convince Sybil to join the ranks of loveless regretters. It hit him that they thought he was a worse option for her than that!

As the door to their flat opened, he thoughtlessly shoved the wedding invitation into his rear pocket and turned his focus onto the almost simmering over soup, turning it down before going to meet his wife.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed, and indeed everyone who has read thus far. I really appreciate your comments and try to take them on board. :D**

* * *

"Tom?" Sybil called as she entered the hallway and started undoing her coat. "I know you're here, I saw the bike and I can tell your atrocious cooking from 2 blocks away." She truly preferred his food to anyone else's and he knew that, which made her try to convince him otherwise. "Don't you dare start all that messing around hiding from me again. Peanut doesn't much care for it." She smiled broadly as he strode towards her, arms out wide.

"Don't you think that the babe is getting a bit too big to continue being called Peanut?" he asked jovially as he wrapped his arms around his blooming wife, sodden coat and all, and kissed her warmly. The sound of Sybil giggling into his kiss was a tonic for his soul no matter what else was happening; the freedom of being able to kiss each other when they wished was still an appreciated novelty to them both.

"Now you're all soaked, you wally!"

"It was worth it," he beamed, helping her from her ill-fitting coat and taking off her boots. It was getting rather difficult for her to reach herself.

Tom still had to regularly remind himself that this _was_ what Sybil wanted; having to walk through the cold Irish rain in a hand-me-down coat. But her radiant smile as she allowed him to help her in life's basics - not as part of a job but out of love - reassured him that she held no regrets in choosing him.

"How are my two favourite people today?" She smiled fondly indulgent as she started to discuss her day and asked about his. She loved his enthusiasm for their upcoming parenthood and appreciated his support in her continuing with work. She remembered several of her pregnant friends being wrapped in cotton wool while at the same time worrying that their husbands were straying. Her and Tom's relationship seemed to her the perfect balance of attention and independence, all wrapped up in the certainty of unerring commitment probably as a result of the long and difficult road they had traversed to get to this point.

"Dinner's almost ready. Come and warm up by the fire, sweetheart. I have your book here for you."

"Thanks darling." As she sat down she pulled her husband in for a longer kiss before allowing him back into the kitchen. When she heard him start to serve up, she instinctively got up to join him and fetch the cutlery. She did not like him waiting on her too much, despite the pregnancy, given their previous situations.

"You're meant to be sitting down. I can manage."

"So can I. Bernadette is more pregnant than I am, has 3 little ones already and her husband burns things whenever he tries to cook. He's even more hopeless that you, although we both suspect that he is faking it." Tom rolled his eyes but said nothing. As they sat down to eat she delighted in her first mouthful of warming soup and closed her eyes to savour it, before consciously berating herself and snapping open her eyes again. As she had suspected Tom was watching her with his smug grin that she so loved and hated and wanted to wipe off. "Put enough garlic in this, didn't you!" she snarled.

"Especially for you, light of my life, as I know you like it so."

Much of the rest of the evening was spent in her trying to wipe the smile off his face and he was not going to rise to it, although he kept feeling the presence of the letter in his back pocket with agitation and knew at some point that would indeed wipe the smile from his face.

* * *

Sybil was engrossed in the section of her book when Catherine the Great presented the country with her Nakaz to state her idea of an ideal government when Tom suddenly could not hold his tongue.

"We have received an invitation to your sister's wedding."

"Huh?" It took a moment for the words to penetrate Sybil's thoughts before she snapped around to face him, not looking overly pleased. "Oh, when is it?"

"Here, take a look."

"June; I am sure granny went on about _marry in May, rue the day_. Well, I was not sure we would be… Oh, oh, oh! She's marrying _Matthew_! Darling, she's not marrying Carlisle after all."

"I know."

"What do you mean? How do you know? Nobody told_ me_?"

"I opened the letter, remember? I am glad you are pleased. I meant what I said before, I do really like Matthew."

"Oh, I most certainly am pleased. And it is rather perfect timing. I was wondering when would be best to stop work and I can slowly decrease it leading up to then and I think it will be rather nice to visit and have a bit of a break before Peanut arrives. Well, I cannot miss this as I am actually invited. Do you think work will be able to spare you at all, at least for the actual day, as you're also invited? I think I would like to go over early, perhaps for a couple of weeks in total but I understand if you will not be able to make it." He knew she also meant that she would understand his not wanting to go though she would never say it.

"I cannot say how long I will be able to go for, but there is no way in hell I shall allow you to travel alone, so I shall at the very least take you over one weekend and do my best to be over for the day itself, and then we can come back together. Of course Matthew has seen to it that it will be on a Saturday, so any of his working friends will be able to attend, which will make it far better for us too. I am not sure I like the idea of leaving you there without me. What if _Peanut_ decided to arrive early? I shall talk to Mr Byrne tomorrow about it."

"Was there any more post?" He fetched her the other letter she had received and opened his own. "It's from mama," she commented unnecessarily and looked more pensive as she settled into reading its contents.

"Are you sure…"

"What?" she prodded him.

"Are you sure you will be all right with it all, the travelling, your family, the whispers from all sides of the ballroom?"

"Mary came to our wedding when she was completely a fish out of water," she smiled recalling, though understanding of his concern. "I am sure I will be fine. How about you? I hope you realise Granny has probably invented an entire false history for you and your entire family."

"Oh god, I hope it is sufficiently thrilling. I might have to add to it, perhaps with a trip down the Congo river, and excavating mummies in Egypt!" He winked at her smile. "Or maybe I should bring my whole family with us and she can really see what she has let herself in for!" They both chuckled at the thought of the Branson clan invading Downton Abbey.

"But seriously, do not worry. I doubt it will be a thoroughly comfortable experience, but Cousin Isobel is on our side, and mama writes that our American grandmother will be coming over."

"Oh? What's she like?"

"Rich, which I suspect is the primary reason for her invite. Other than that, I suppose the best way to describe her is … American. You just have to join me to find out, I suppose. I cannot wait to show you off."

"Show off the chauffeur?" He earned himself a light hit.

"If you continue like that I will not want you to come. It would mean more wedding cake for Peanut and me. Honestly, I am a little nervous. I know you might not really be able to make it yet, but it would be our first proper visit as a married couple in which they can all get to know you properly, as I do. Well, perhaps not entirely as I do, but they will be able to see how happy I am and how well cared for, and that must count for something. Besides, mama is so excited about Peanut, as I am sure all of the others will be once they know, and being pregnant will show them how serious I am about you and all of this." Tom was not so sure that their child would magically mend all fences as Sybil's hopeful look would suggest, but he was willing to wish for it.

"So, will you be expecting Lady Violet to call the baby Peanut?"


	3. Chapter 3

The following evening Sybil was just warming the leftovers from the previous day's soup when her husband came bounding in through the door looking like the cat that got the canary. Little did she suspect he had stood outside their flat's door for a couple of minutes to summon up that enthusiasm; he had very little personal joy about the idea of returning to Downton, but he knew it would be tough for his wife as well and was thus determined that he would be one factor she was not to worry about too much.

"Sweetheart, I have great news," he announced swooping in with a kiss before he continued while sorting the bread and butter. "Mr Byrne went for my proposal and I can stay in England a full month."

"Really? That's wonderful! But what proposal?"

"I came up with it on the walk in to work. I thought I would do a feature on the current English attitudes to Ireland. And I can cover some of the London politics too. I figure we can go over there on May 15th and stay in Liverpool for a couple of days. I can speak with the dock workers in particular as many of them are Irish themselves. Then we can make our way over to Downton, perhaps for the 19th, and stop along the way to talk to people."

"What a good idea! Though I am worried you might not get the reaction you would hope for."

"I am prepared for that though just want the truth, and you might be able to get a more honest answer out of them than I if you are willing to help. They would probably pretend once they heard my accent. But Mr Byrne primarily went for it as he knew that at a big society wedding I should be able to talk to all manner of the aristocracy, who are still the men in charge, whether we like it or not." At this Sybil's smile faltered.

"Oh Tom, I don't think you should spend Mary's wedding day badgering the other guests for their thoughts on Ireland."

"Not on the actual day itself I won't, but they will have many guests before and afterwards. Besides, I am sure they would talk about it at some point without me bringing it up myself. Soup's burning." Sybil distractedly sorted out the dinner and carried it through. "Don't worry, I don't intend on doing anything to ruin your sister's wedding day. I like her a lot more after she came over for our wedding, despite her still trying to change your mind. I know it was uncomfortable for her, but she bore it well and I shall have to match that or live with snarky comments for the rest of our lives!" This settled Sybil's mind a little, though her initial delight at the idea of seeing her family and Tom joining her was starting to be tempered by the likely reality of the situation. She was going to have her work cut out for her managing both her family's and her husband's behaviours. And she would have to try to get people in proper conversation about Ireland herself in his earshot to make his plan accomplishable without any doom.

"So I shall let mama know we shall arrive on the 19th then? And we shall leave a week after the wedding, on the 12th? Do you know what time train we would be aiming for?"

"Oh, that's the other thing. I forgot to mention." He paused wondering how the other part of his plan would sit with his wife. "I am going to need a lot of flexibility in order to finish my task while I am over there. Besides, I do not think I will be able to be confined to order while at Downton, and I am not sure it will sit well with you either to lose our independence."

"Mmmmmm?"

"I thought I would take the motorcycle over and…"

"The motorcycle? But there is no way I can get _on _a motorcycle, let alone ride on the back of one for hours with our things hanging off the back!"

"Nor would I expect you to. Mr Byrne came up with the solution. He is going to swap us, for that month, so we can have his motorcycle with the sidecar, and he can have my bike." Sybil's spoon hung in the air before her face as she stared at her husband, thoughts whirling in her head from his seemingly simple statement. She didn't know which was foremost between the idea of her riding in a sidecar, which terrified her, pulling up to Downton Abbey in such a vehicle or the fact that her husband was actually willing to let someone else ride his beloved motorcycle for a month just so he could drive her to her sister's wedding. She decided to focus on the final part.

"But you love that bike and won't let anyone else near it after all the work you put into it. I thought you were planning on eventually racing it."

"I still am, probably next year now. But Mr Byrne has admired it for a while now and I believe he would look after her." Sybil ducked her head to hide her smile at how her husband personalised vehicles. "And that doesn't matter anyway. I am more worried about whether you would be happy in a sidecar."

"I am not sure," she pondered, trying to hide her agitation. "I must admit to not being overly enamoured with the idea. How about you ask Mr Byrne whether we can borrow it on Saturday – I have to cover an extra shift on Sunday now - then we can take a drive in the country and I can see how I feel about it, and you can get used to the feel of it yourself. I am longing to have a little country air now spring is upon us, and see the baby lambs, even if this weather does continue."

"That sounds like a grand idea. And we can take a picnic."

"Mr Branson! I know what sort of activities you like to engage on at a picnic. If I recall, that's how we got Peanut." He winked at her.

* * *

Sybil was surprised with how much she actually enjoyed the sidecar, having full trust in her husband's cautious driving, and she readily agreed to the plan.

The following month was busy as Sybil finished her time at the hospital, Tom wrote some extra articles to cover his time away and they prepared for their return to England. Sybil also insisted that they completely prepare for the baby's arrival before they left as they would only have a couple of weeks until it was due once they returned. She even packed a few baby essentials to take with them just in case.

"Should I be buying a special suit for the wedding? I cannot imagine that they would be overly happy with this one."

"Let's leave it until we get there. We will have over two weeks to prepare and you can get a suit in time. I do not yet know whether I might be a bridesmaid, or whether we're to be relegated to the broom cupboard, so cannot decide on a dress and we would want to coordinate."

Before they knew it they were on the ferry back to England and each was trying to stay positive for the other. Once in Liverpool they were emerged in a flurry of activity which left them little time for negative thoughts about Downton, though Tom tried to get Sybil to start sitting down a little more. On the first evening she complained of her swollen feet again and as he massaged them he tried to convince her to take things slower now.

"You have finished work and it's time now to just try to relax and look after yourself and our huge baby."

"Are you calling me huge?"

"You know you're beautiful. But we only have little over a month left until constant baby demands; I know you have gotten used to rush and bustle, but there's no shame in putting your feet up occasionally. Besides, I think you need to ease yourself into being with your mother. From what you say you will unlikely be allowed to lift a finger when we're there."

Sybil's body rather than her mind agreed with him and the next few days found her sleeping or sat reading more than she had for a long time. She started to find the engine sent her off to sleep easily in the sidecar and the time passed quickly for her. Tom enjoyed the last of his carefree time as well, whizzing through the increasingly beautiful country with the woman he adored sleeping beside him for him to gaze at whenever he wished while fighting the urge to just turn the bike around or fake engine problems to delay the inevitable. But he was no coward; his wishes might be to run, but he would make himself face it. He smiled grimly as he rode up the path leading to his wife's childhood home, her still fast asleep next to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks again to you lovely reviewers. :D This chapter isn't Tom and Sybil based, but the next chapter won't be long in coming. I don't think there are any spoilers post the Christmas Special, save for a new main-ish character - and I think it must be hard to have escaped hearing about her! But if you haven't and don't wish to be mildly spoiled, please don't read any further!**

* * *

May had opened pleasantly enough on the Downton Abbey estate. The sun was breaking out and brightening up the multi-coloured landscape full of springtime blooms. The birds were noisy, the lambs were frolicking and even some of the insects had already started their buzzing. But with a wedding coming on the 5th June for much of England's high society it was the interior of the house that was most frantic.

Lady Mary, despite being the bride, was as always the most calm face amongst the crowd, but Matthew was well aware from their occasional snatched alone time that it was all getting a little too much even for her. Every day it seemed there was a new problem, and every day Isobel, Cora and Violet would beat out the problem in their three different directions, ignoring the bride and groom, until it seemed insurmountable. And now Mary's American grandmother was arriving to join the fray she had warned Matthew to prepare for another extra person to argue from yet another direction.

Matthew often watched with envy when Edith would flit down to the garage and go out on a nice morning drive whenever the weather was pleasant, surely to pick up Anthony Strallan. He missed those carefree days of early courtship and wondered whether he and Mary would ever get much of that. The time immediately after they got engaged was delightful, but in the middle of winter they were forced to remain indoors and that meant being among other people. Since then their lives had turned into this circus, and before then they had not really been together as a couple, though the time spent flirting years before had been really rather nice!

Now he was stuck on his own in the library, banished from the ladies' presence as they discussed 'ladies' matters' but he was still forced to remain nearby in case he were to be needed. He was aware of Lady Edith strolling around agitatedly outdoors, not being allowed to take the car out today as she was to greet her grandmother upon her arrival. Still, he had very little to complain about, being only three weeks away from marrying Mary, and then there would be the honeymoon.

He flicked through the car catalogue before him once again, smiling in satisfaction. There would still be plenty of time for long drives in the country once they were back from their honeymoon, and the thought of it kept him chipper.

* * *

Matthew enjoyed Martha's arrival for the most part, primarily as wedding issues were shelved until the following day to make way for welcoming her, and a few days later he would get another break to do the same for Sybil. On the whole Matthew preferred to stay quiet and watch everyone else, which in this case was terrific. Even Mary seemed lighter to watch her two grandmothers slog it out, with occasional appearances from their respective mothers. Robert just seemed far away from everything, no doubt being kept busy himself from the opening of the political season and his continued attempts to help Mr Bates.

It was only when Martha turned her eyes to Matthew from along the length of the table that he started to feel uncomfortable.

"So you are to inherit all of the money I poured into this estate then, young man." Robert shifted uncomfortably at this point. "And you get my eldest granddaughter to boot. My, were you born under a lucky star!"

"I am the luckiest man alive, of that I have no doubt," he smiled at Mary, clearly demonstrating which was the larger asset in his mind.

"And are you ready for the consequences of what you are both taking on; of the pressure of having a son to keep our money and this place _and_ the title in the family?"

"I don't see I have any choice in the matter. That is the role given to me and I am overjoyed that Mary is willing to travel this road with me. I can think of nobody I would rather bear the burden and joy with, and no-one who could handle it so well, except perhaps Cousin Cora."

"He certainly is very charming, I will give him that. I am pleased to see you have all made your peace with the situation. And do you have any plans for the place once you are Earl?"

"Please madam. I have given the matter no thought and do not wish to discuss it now."

"Oh dear, have I made a faux pas for English niceties?"

"It is just for that day to come a very sad event must occur, and I dearly hope it is a long time in coming." Matthew tried not to look at Robert at the difficult topic of his future demise.

"I was just musing at how little has changed since I last was here, and whether it will all stay like this forever. Traditions are all well and good if they make sense and can conform to necessary changes." Isobel seemed to brighten at this topic of conversation and the appearance of an ally.

"We have made many changes, mother. You may not have noticed them having only been here an hour."

"Of course, we have different perspectives on this, my being apart from you all for so long. Changes should be obvious to me, but apart from electricity and a telephone I do not see much difference."

"You did not see the house during the war. If you had, I think you would appreciate it as it is far more," Cora defended wearily. It had already been a tiring morning with Isobel and Violet, and Robert had been in a strange, distant mood for a couple of days which concerned her. The wedding had made her have little time to address this, which worried her all the more as when she had been preoccupied with the convalescent home she knew Robert felt abandoned in their relationship and their marriage had gone through its first truly rocky patch in two decades. She did not intend to make that mistake again, although she did admit in her heart that he was equally at fault. One thing her mother's presence reminded her of was how pleasant it was when people would sometimes actually speak their minds. If only her husband would share his more readily then she wouldn't have to work so hard to maintain their marriage.

"Indeed. Change for change's sake is a very inadvisable idea, especially when the tried and tested ways work so well. I see no evidence that this brave new world being premised has any noble qualities to it. As Sybil always said: If everything is sunny in the garden then why meddle? Everything _is_ sunny in the garden," the Dowager Countess countered, while adding under her breath: "Until the cloud of Cora's mother appeared."

"But if Sybil really thought things were sunny in the garden then why has she left?" The silence that descended the table felt very hostile and Matthew, as the least perturbed by the subject of his absent cousin and sister-in-law-to-be, decided he had to try to smooth things over, least of all as he could sense his fiancée becoming more worried about the entire family soon being under the same roof.

"So, Mrs Levinson, please tell us more about America," he ventured keenly. He soon regretted his choice of question as there was somehow a politely silent groan around the table and Mary rolled her eyes at him. Lady Violet called for a glass of sherry to steady her against the coming onslaught of description and opinions. Martha was known amongst the family as an avid talker, especially when comparing countries, and they all knew to avoid asking her any such questions as much as possible.

By the end of luncheon and the following hour, Isobel and Matthew's initial enthusiasm and interest were completely depleted as well and they were glad that they would not be dining at Downton Abbey that evening. Martha, for her part, also sensed the silent disapproval of the question and, smugly maintaining the pretence that she was ignorant of their dislike of her stories, determinedly ploughed on all the more to frustrate them all. Poor Matthew though, she thought, knowing he was trying to be polite and would likely incur everyone's wrath for setting her off, but she had no time for that sort of English politeness he exhibited, so like the current occupants of Downton Abbey. He was a nice enough lad, and perfect really for Mary, but in him she saw little progress into the future for the estate. She was surprised having heard he had come from a middle class background, she had thought he would be a little different, but she supposed having been here for nearly a decade must have changed him. The mother, however, seemed like she might have a little fight left in her, and from some of the disparaging remarks in Cora's letters, and now out of Violet's mouth, she was sure she would rather like the woman, if nothing else for winding up the old crone.

Later Matthew received little rebuke and solely from Mary when he was bidding her farewell for the afternoon. He tried to peck her on the mouth, but she moved her head to the side so he would just catch her cheek.

"I am sorry I set your grandmother off. You know, I think she does it deliberately to try to wind us up enough to stop being polite and pretending interest."

"I did warn you not to ask her. Please try to remember how to handle things more in the future around the family. There are likely to be enough tensions without us adding to them." He smiled at her, kissed her hand and walked off. She immediately felt guilty for taking things out on him, but she was starting to lose her cool.

Not only did all of the elder women of the family seem to be railroading every single plan of the wedding (and she was about to have to enter the fray again as this afternoon they would be discussing more issues with the added weight of grandmamma), but her excitement to see Sybil was being seriously overcast with gloom. She missed her baby sister who, more than anyone else she knew, could make things seem bright and cheery, and who loved weddings so much. Mary knew she had only a few more days to hang on and grit her teeth before her respite turned up but she was starting to wonder if she would even be able to manage that, especially after the comment at luncheon regarding Sybil. Clearly she and her husband was still a tense topic and a new tension was the last thing Mary wished for. She started to feel angry that she was made to dread the coming of the thing she was most anticipating.

For some reason everything everyone else did made her mad at Matthew and now she had finally told him off for something that wasn't really his fault, making her ire rise even more. She decided she would excuse herself with a headache before the hour passed and started to walk indoors, passing a smiling Edith who was on her way out.

"Oh, Mary, you don't need me for anything this afternoon, do you?" Edith smiled genuinely at her sister who masked her feelings with a reciprocal smile. In the void of their mutually beloved sister, and their shared feelings of concern and missing her, the pair of them had gotten closer and Edith seemed to be the only one truly aware of her being slightly less than the excited, blushing bride to be, though they would never be as close as either were to Sybil.

Their father seemed distant of late and in the brief times between organising everything their mother seemed only to notice their father's mood with no time to notice Mary's. All of the others were caught up in their own opinion of what was becoming a farce of a wedding and when she had caught Matthew earlier eagerly thumbing through a car magazine her first thought was how nice it would be, really, to follow Sybil and the chauffeur's lead and drive off to Gretna Green. She knew she had no such freedom and now envied Edith a little for hers being increased. This almost made her want to ruin her sister's current easy happiness and make her stay in the drawing room with the – what was the collective term for them? – matriarchs rather than go on a leisurely drive with Sir Anthony.

"No, thank you. You go on but make sure you're back for dinner. I don't want to be the only mediator in there!" Mary realised that she for one would actually rather be inside than anywhere alone with Sir Anthony but released her sister anyway. She didn't see what even Edith could see in the old duffer, but was glad at least to have done something right today, and for once had a true smile on her face at seeing the radiant one on her sister's as she half skipped off to get a motor. But her heart was saddened contemplating that it should be her, approaching the wedding, who had the cause to wear such a beaming smile. She often tried to remind herself how this wedding had almost not happened and to count her blessings, but it was hard to. She had hoped that becoming Matthew's wife would be able to help her hide her real self from the world less, and she generally did when she was with Matthew, but she was receding into herself even more and even away from him and it scared her. There was no return once they were married; what if she remained so detached for the rest of her life? At least in the pre-marital waiting room there was hope to not always be so.

* * *

Several days later all of the family including Matthew and Isobel, but excluding Robert who was brooding in the library, were sitting gathered ready for the Bransons' arrival. They were expected several hours later and the calm beforehand was spent discussing anything other than the wedding as Mary had demanded. She had become so agitated in the previous couple of days that everyone had finally noticed, but talking about inconsequential nothings seemed to be doing wonders for her spirits. Cora was positively giddy and bursting for everyone to know the news about Sybil's pregnancy. She was so very proud of herself for keeping the secret.

"So is this all you do when you have a couple of free hours to kill? Sip tea and talk of nothing?"

"Mama, we have all been so busy lately that I think a couple of hours of peace is well deserved. But please do feel free to go for a walk or call for the chauffeur to take you anywhere you would like to go." Cora was not going to be baited today of all days.

"Preferably back to America!" Violet said under her breath to Mary, who was amused. When not discussing her life she enjoyed watching the banter of her two grandmothers.

"There is nowhere diverting near here, nothing like New York, and I would hate to miss little Sybil's homecoming, though I guess she's not so little anymore. I cannot believe she is married and living in Ireland! When last I saw her she can't have been more than 8 and wide eyed about every little thing in the world. I think she loved small garden creatures at the time, and everyone was annoyed at the frogs and snails everywhere in the house." This made her laugh and most of the others smile at the memory of the family's little darling. It made each member of her family wonder how much she had changed in the year she had been living a completely alien life in Ireland.

"And I am looking forward to meeting that husband of hers I have heard so little about. I mean it's almost… What's that noise?" Everyone had heard the slight bang at the same time, and Matthew half jumped out of his seat having gone white. It took Mary's comforting hand to soothe him.

"I am not sure." Cora moved to the window to look at what the increasing roaring noise was and her eyes opened to their full extent. "It is Sybil!" Her voice was barely audible. "I had better see if your father is ready; they are rather early." The others crowded the window in shock to see the mode in which they were arriving. Mary feared for Carson's heart and rushed to warn him of the approach. Edith, Matthew, Isobel and Martha all chuckled lightly but Edith had to hold up the Dowager Countess who had gone rather faint at the spectacle.

"This is more like it!" Martha announced grandly as they all staggered outside to greet Mr and Mrs Branson.


	5. Chapter 5

"Robert, she's here. Are you coming?"

"I thought she would be coming by train, or at least a motor!"

"Well, she's here no matter how."

"It matters a great deal how, to me at the very least." The silent look they shared was painful to Cora and she had no idea how to break through it. "Please make excuses for me. I shall see you all at dinner tonight." He purposefully led Isis out of the side exit, evidently running out the back to hide for the rest of the afternoon, and all Cora could think was that he would spend the whole time trying to work out an excuse to get out of dinner as well.

'_Never mind him!' _her mind told her. She was not going to let anything mar the joy she felt at seeing her baby again.

* * *

The gathered family, Carson and one of the new footmen exited the grand door just as Tom pulled up the motorbike, Sybil closest to the door. The significant change in velocity started to rouse her and she sleepily looked over at her husband who removed his goggles before stroking her cheek and telling her they had arrived. She sat up slightly and looked to her other side with a beaming smile reciprocated by all but her English grandmother, tears welling in her mother's eyes.

Before she knew it Tom was by her side and gently lifting her out of the sidecar with silent strength and a look of love. She marvelled that no matter how large she got he seemed to handle her weight with ease. But her size caused several gasps among the throng waiting for her.

"Sybil! You've been keeping secrets!"

"Wanting to steal my thunder, no doubt," Mary quipped half seriously.

Sybil greeted her family in turn with returned glee. Even Lady Violet had regained enough composure to embrace her youngest grandchild, deciding in an instant that fainting at the added shock would be a touch dramatic, little as she like her blood having been mixed with this fellow's. Tom stayed behind Sybil, following the Crawleys' leads with greetings, mostly shaking hands. They were generally politely formal, still wishing to be addressed with their titles and calling him Mr Branson, but he was pleased when Isobel and, more surprisingly to him, Cora, insisted he use their Christian names and they called him Tom (as Sybil had suspected at least Isobel would), and surprised when Martha grabbed him for a hug, kissing him theatrically on both cheeks.

"My, you bagged yourself a good looking one here, Sybil darling. No wonder you got pregnant so quickly!" Violet looked aghast as Martha linked her arm through his and tried to lead him inside with this conversation.

"Thank you, Martha," he politely replied as she asked him to use her given name as well. "But I should really park up the bike and take in our luggage. You go in, Sybil darling, I won't be too long."

"We will be in the parlour for tea and cake when you are ready, Tom. Oh, and you will be staying in Sybil's old room. Do you know where it is?" Sybil blushed but Tom instantly reacted to his mother-in-law's test.

"I am afraid I do not," he lied flawlessly, remembering leaving a note in her bedroom once before. He appeared so guileless Cora was instantly assured and asked the footman, Jeremy, to show him the way once he was parked. The young man looked uncomfortable but nodded as the family went inside and waited for Mr Branson to park up the car.

"I do not think it right, Mr Carson," came Thomas' - rather Mr Barrow's - voice from around the grand door at which Mr Carson was still standing after the family had all entered, "to have you and Jeremy attending a chauffeur!"

"I… I won't carry his luggage for him," Jeremy added nervously yet defiantly. Mr Barrow had been bending his ear about this newcomer and made him feel it would be a disgrace to the whole house, upstairs and down, if he were to lift a finger for the man. He so wanted to stay on the right side of the valet.

"Mr Carson, surely you should both be attending the members of this grand family at their tea rather than making them wait for you to finish with the chauffeur."

"Her Ladyship wishes it, Mr Barrow."

"I can tell you agree with me, though. If you would like, I shall wait for the man, show him up."

"Thank you Thomas. That would be most helpful. Come, Jeremy, Mrs Patmore should have had time to boil the water by now."

As Tom rounded the corner to the great house's front entrance carrying both his and Sybil's suitcases, he saw Mr Carson and the new footman go inside and Thomas shortly following them, closing the grand door. He knew this was a deliberate slight on their parts but was not bothered as he had expected as much. Sybil had thought he was exaggerating, but she didn't know the world below stairs and the pride of its occupants as much as he did. Undeterred his strode up to the door and made his way through the imposing doors for the first time in his life yet came across as if he owned the place.

The hall was empty but he could hear some chattering off to the side, he supposed the parlour. He took his time enjoying the tranquillity of the empty room and the novelty of being inside it as a guest. He had never been inside the upstairs except when it had been being converted into the convalescent home and that one time he had to bring the news of Sybil's accident at the count to Lady Mary. He hated remembering that night, so bounded up the stairs two at a time almost bumping into Thomas at the top. Both barely concealed their condescending smirk at the other.

"Mr Branson."

"Thomas."

"It's Mr Barrow now."

"Oh, I am sorry." He actually was, but his apologies were really directed at Mr Bates who must hate knowing that this weasel had usurped his place, and Anna for having to deal with it daily. "Could I please trouble you to point me to the room I should be staying in?"

"I believe that is Lady Sybil's old room, this way."

"As we are correcting titles, she prefers Mrs Branson now."

"Here is the room. The door over there is the bathroom. The silver things turn to give water."

"Yes I know."

"Tea is being taken in the parlour and dinner will be at 7. His Lordship and Her Ladyship wish you and Lady Sybil to join them properly attired." They had said no such thing, but Thomas Barrow decided he was in a strong enough position to take a few liberties. He closed the door on Mr Branson who was fuming at his patronising tone and continued use of Sybil's title.

Tom went into the bathroom and tried to cool off both physically and emotionally by running the mentioned taps and splashing water on his face. He was already being snubbed, and he personally preferred it that way to being waited on, but he knew his wife would be hurt by it. Particularly noticeable was her father's absence from the greeting party, though they had both pretended not to notice to not embarrass Cora, who had been wholly hospitable to her son-in-law.

He decided to give Sybil some time alone with her family before he joined them wishing to clean up a little and change out of his travelling clothes. Sybil's were perfectly fine for facing the Crawleys, but as he had had to do the driving rather than sit in the comfortable sidecar his clothes were far more on the practical side. He chose to unpack while here, knowing Sybil did not like her clothes being in suitcases for longer than they had to be in order to minimise pressing them again – a waste of time in her eyes these days. He started with hers and then organised his and found the suit he wished to wear that afternoon in short time and started to get changed.

No sooner did he have almost all of his clothes off then he heard a faint knock on the door which opened before he could say anything to a shocked Anna who dropped the towels she was carrying before swiftly turning her back. He had never seen her so discomposed.

"Oh, Mr Branson I am so sorry. I did not…"

"It is fine, Anna." As he rushed to get his suit on he was hit by the lack of privacy he now enjoyed and did not like it, but could not blame Anna. In fact, the situation was rather funny. "Just don't tell your husband or he might deck me!" He tried to put her at ease, but clearly it was the wrong thing to say. "Sorry. I didn't…"

"Do not worry about it, Mr Branson."

"How is Mr Bates? Do you get to see him often? Oh, I am decent now." She turned and picked up the towels avoiding his eyes.

"He is bearing up and I wish I could see him more."

"I am sure you do. I need to travel to London some time while I am here. Do you think he would welcome a visit from me?" This seemed to cheer her slightly and she raised her eyes to his in gratitude then blushed and lowered them, making him realise she was nervous of him not from the topic of conversation but rather the state of undress in which she had found him.

"I am sure he would enjoy that. He has few visitors who can come often. But his Lordship and I are still trying to fight for his freedom. Oh, you have already unpacked."

"Yes, thank you Anna. I think you can appreciate that Sybil and I can look after ourselves now, not that we aren't grateful of your checking."

"Am I not needed for evening dressing for your wife in that case?" She was clearly skirting the use of Sybil's name, uncertain of how she should address her to him, but he did not mind any such thing from Anna as he knew it was meant in the kindest way.

"Perhaps only if her mother gets her dresses while she is here that have all the fiddly things to them, in which case Sybil will tell you herself. I would like very much to catch up some time, and to hear how Mr Bates' case is progressing, but I do understand if this will make you uncomfortable. Especially now I have exposed myself to you." He added cheekily after a pause with a smile and she looked at him making her laugh herself, quite animatedly, to which he joined in. It had been a long time since she had truly laughed and she was grateful for it.

"I would like that. Please accept my congratulations on your marriage and expected child, Mr Branson, but you had better get downstairs if you wish to remain married. Good luck," she whispered as an afterthought as she left the room smiling. He shook his head in amusement and followed her out, but descended a different set of stairs than she to have his first taste of an intimate setting with the Crawleys.


	6. Chapter 6

Tea and cakes was a far pleasanter experience than Tom had anticipated with everyone making an effort. Perhaps it was the absence of Robert which helped, and the excitement everyone felt at seeing Sybil and especially not wanting to upset her in her condition, but he felt quite at his ease there. Matthew seemed to have chilled Mary out quite a bit, though he did confide in Tom in a quiet moment that the wedding was stressing her out, asking how Sybil had fared about hers. Tom wished he could reassure the man, but Sybil had taken the wedding and new life completely in her stride, so he settled on a neutral answer.

"It was rather different; we only had a small gathering." He could not help but look over at Cora at this thought as he was still upset for his wife's part that neither of her parents had attended her wedding. Even now, a year into marriage and almost at the end of a pregnancy Tom had rarely seen Sybil succumb to her emotions, but she had several times needed comforting around the wedding for this point alone, and he was not sure he would ever truly be able to forgive them. He had to at least pretend though, seeing her sat next to her mother, who was grasping her hands keenly and looking to all the world as if there had never been any strife between them.

"If you do not mind I think I would like to lie down before dinner," Sybil announced to the room at large. Cora looked fondly down at Sybil's baby bump in understanding.

"Of course, darling. Do ring if there's anything you need."

"Would you like me to help you up the stairs?"

"Yes please, Tom." They smiled at each other in mutual, marital understanding. He was well aware that she had until recently been working at the hospital and had managed without a mid-afternoon nap, but that she was playing on her mother's doting nature to make sure that he was not put in the situation with the family for too long on his first go. He gratefully took his leave and the couple settled themselves into their room. She marvelled at his having unpacked so gratefully put her feet up while he cuddled her and stroked her hair.

"I think it's going rather well, don't you?" he said with slightly more confidence than he felt.

"I am sorry for my father. He's probably sulking around in his library. I was half tempted to drag you in there and kiss you under the pretence of looking for a book just to annoy him."

"I would not have complained, but he was not in there. He is walking the grounds with the dog, I spotted him earlier. And you have no need to apologise, sweetheart. You can be very proud of the rest of your family; it cannot be easy for them."

"I am a little surprised at Matthew wishing to main a formality with you. I would have thought he would be more like his mother, seeing as he was not always the aristocrat."

"He is friendly enough, and in a hard position. I think he will follow Lady Mary and your father's leads. He would likely feel like he was a turncoat if he was too friendly to me in the face of your father's disapproval, and he will soon be marrying another of his daughters."

"I suppose."

"Your grandmothers are very entertaining, though." And they whiled away the time until dinner chatting convivially with each other.

* * *

Cora had been disappointed with Robert's disappearing act and he knew she would be, though he could not be sorry. It was with a tentative heart he entered her room as she finished changing for dinner but she had already decided to avoid lecturing him tonight, and seeing his face on entering she was glad of her decision. He was evidently in one of those moods where no logic would reach him.

They descended together, him taking his strength from her as he often did in times of trouble, though he mused perhaps he would not have her to do so in the future. Once she found out.

He was surprised at the feeling he had on seeing his daughter walk in on the arm of the former chauffeur, blooming with his child. It was not unlike being punched in the chest. But Cora's reassuring hand in his held him firm for this initial greeting.

"Papa, you are looking well." As she pecked him on the cheek and he automatically responded, though without much feeling, he was reminded of so many mornings when she had done the exact same, but how completely different things were now. He found it hard to look at her, realising he was grieving still for the Sybil that was, and the Sybil that might have been. For her part she seemed to be smiling quite at ease and with joy and he did so wish he could see some hint of shame or regret in her features, but he saw none.

"I am pleased you managed to make it for Mary's special day." He felt smug when his attention, until now wholly centred on his youngest child, moved to the chauffeur and realised he was even more uncomfortable with the situation. Robert keenly felt the man's uncertainty as to whether he should offer his hand to the Earl, but clearly he had decided it was not his place. He wished to make him stew for as long as he could, but realised once he shook his hand he could leave them to Cora and get a drink so he held out his hand. "Mr Branson."

"My Lord." Robert was surprised with the cold look he received, likely mirroring his own, but he felt he had done nothing to earn a reproach from him of all people. He had allowed them to come and even stay together in his home. The look haunted him as he moved away and took a drink over to see his mother wishing Matthew were with them. Cora had decided the first night was just to be the intimate family as the Bransons would surely be tired, but her main reason was that there would be the excuse with just the two men for them not to part from the ladies after dinner. At least on this first night when she felt it was wise to have her and Sybil maintaining the peace between their husbands.

* * *

Tom was glad to be sat between Cora and Martha. As Cora was warming to him she was losing her English politeness and being more like the American woman Sybil had talked of so many times with fondness, and he rather liked it. But it was only a fraction of what it was like sitting next to Martha, who spent much of the evening regaling him boisterously with stories of her life and for her part she was glad to have an attentive and honest ear for once.

As the food started to be brought round Tom had to admit that it looked and smelled amazing. The stews downstairs had always been pretty delicious, and although part of him felt uncomfortable at being at the grand table when his compunction disagreed with the extravagance of it all, he knew it was for Sybil and he might as well make the most of it.

After Carson had finished leaning in to serve Martha he bypassed Tom completely and leant in to Cora, who had not noticed at she was talking to her daughter on her other side, asking her about her appetite and cravings during her pregnancy. Tom did not quite know what to do and felt his face flushing in embarrassment especially at the slight smirk he gleaned from his father in law over the table, but less noticeably to much of the table Carson's face was reddening as well. For a man whose life revolved around a well done dinner, to walk past a guest was unthinkable, but to him not quite as much a s to serve such a man who had weaselled his way, unwelcomed by the Lord of the house, into the family.

Sybil had noticed her husband's situation and as Carson moved to come and serve her Cora turned briefly to him with a question on her face at his empty plate. But before she could say anything she heard her daughter's calm voice.

"Thank you Carson, but I am equal with my husband, and if you do not feel you can serve him then I recommend not serving me."

"Don't be silly, Sybil. You need to eat. Carson…" Cora was about to berate the man.

"Please mama, I think it would be rather hypocritical of either Tom or myself not to respect a man's right to protest about something he does not feel is right. We might disagree with his opinion, but I can speak for my husband as well that we respect it and his right not to serve us. But I am with my husband on this as all things, so when the dishes are put in the centre of the table we shall both help ourselves."

"Like vultures picking from a carcass?" Violet was shocked at the idea and looked around the table seeing equal levels of disquiet from all sides, except for Branson who was smiling at his wife's words.

"If you like, granny. It's how we do it at home and at Tom's mother's. Thank you Carson, please serve Lady Mary now."

Carson felt very hot under the collar, not anticipating having caused this daughter of an Earl to help herself from the middle of the table – what a disgrace - but he could not back down now, and Lady Mary gave him a reassuring smile which soothed him somewhat. He had spent all afternoon getting riled up, telling Mrs Hughes all about the disgraceful arrival of the couple on their noisy form of transport and disregard for propriety, and Thomas and he had discussed the wrongness of waiting on a former member of staff. He had made the difficult decision to not serve the man, but he did not expect to not serve Lady Sybil. He did not like Lady Sybil's description of it being a protest either. He despised people who protested; it was most undignified and held no place in the proper order of things. No, he was not protesting, or making a stand, he was doing what was right and had been right since time immemorial.

He was to be even more upset in the following course when he reached Martha.

"Oh no, don't bother with me. I am not a Lady either after all. I shall help myself from the middle as well," she exclaimed before adding: "I have always rather fancied myself as a vulture," while looking sarcastically at Violet.

"As have I," the latter muttered, as Martha predicted she would.

As the dessert course was served up Robert picked up on Cora's hints that she had noticed his silence throughout dinner and her glares showed she expected him to raise a topic of conversation. Perhaps it was the extra glasses of wine he had allowed himself, or Carson's immutable disregard so alike his own, but he decided to stop being worried about how to be on his best behaviour. He was master of this house after all, and did not this couple proclaim to like honesty?

"So, Mr Branson, do you really think it's taking care of my daughter driving her around everywhere in that dirty death trap?"

"I take it you are referring to the motorcycle, and I am surprised you raise the topic as I thought you were out all afternoon so would not have seen how we arrived." There was that disapproving look again that unsettled Robert's stomach. He was aware of his wife and eldest daughter's wide eyes at the conversation, of Edith looking shyly down at her plate and pushing her dessert around on it and Martha and Violet both looking ready to watch the coming battle. For both of them it was a novelty for such a thing to happen with them not being involved.

Only Sybil seemed unperturbed, ignoring it all and ploughing through a large helping of pudding. She had only yesterday recovered from her seasickness – Peanut's seasickness, she told Tom, as she had previously been proud of her good sea legs – and between that and the journey she was famished. She also knew that an argument would happen and that Tom could hold his own.

"Yes, I mean the motorcycle. I do not think in her condition she should be sat out in all weather on that bumpy thing."

"Seeing as you are actually taking an interest in something in your daughter's life, I can tell you that there is a cover for if there is bad weather for the sidecar, but we have had delightful weather all of this time and have had no need for it. Moreover, I would take no chances with my wife or child and am a very careful driver, as I think you know. We discussed it and felt it would be more sensible than going by train as we could stop however often we wished, and should there be some incident with the babe then we would have the freedom to go wherever we could get help and not be stuck on a busy train."

"But a car would serve far better. Why don't you just admit you cannot afford to look after Sybil properly by having a car for her?"

"I have no need to pretend that I _can _afford a car, but also that we have need for one. We both work not far from our house, and it is only a short bus journey to my ma's. Other than that the motorcycle is far and away more sensible for getting around a city for my job. Even if I had the money for a car I would not get one as I would not throw money away on unnecessary frivolities."

"It looks like great fun," Martha tried to be helpful, but Cora knew she was being anything but to Robert.

"Oh it is, you should try it grandmamma. The wind blowing past you and being right there with the scenery…" Sybil looked dreamy. She had finally finished feasting and felt dozy and happy despite the negative vibes in the room.

"I am surprised you noticed, it seems like you slept most of the trip," Edith giggled at her. Sybil smiled back glad to see her sister so radiant.

"Shall we all go through?" Cora said to stop any more of this chatter that she knew was upsetting her husband. Everyone jumped at the chance, Tom helping Sybil from her chair and she pulling him with her. Cora had let her know she planned to not have the men separate from the women that night so she steered him with her. Robert moved to the other side of the room and poured himself a brandy. Cora caught Mary's arms as she left.

"Mary, settle everyone. We will be in soon," and she closed the door, walking over to her husband. "Can you pour me one as well please?"

"If you plan on telling me off…" Cora sighed in response.

"I understand how you feel, really I do."

"Then how can you make small talk with him and smile with him?"

"He is very good to Sybil; if you spent time with them you would see it. She is happy, Robert. Or is that your main problem?" He looked about to protest this accusation before realising the truth of it.

"I just don't understand how she can be. What does she see wrong with us?"

"I don't think you should look at it that way. She loves us all dearly, and although she doesn't show it she is sad to think of how upset you are at her."

"It is hard to see her knocked up by a man in whom I entrusted the care of my daughters."

"I wouldn't let Sybil hear you use that term."

"And I don't care what he says; I do not like her going about in that sidecar thing."

"Nor do I. The young think they know best and we know they don't. One day they will realise it when their child is grown. There is nothing we can do about any of it now."

"If you can't beat them, join them?"

"Sybil knows you need time. Just please try, and stop being so belligerent. I don't need to remind you that sometimes bad things can happen during a pregnancy to the mother. You would never forgive yourself if something happened to Sybil." A look of understanding passed between them as they grasped each other's hands, each other's rocks through the chaos of their children's growing up, and downed their drinks. A piano was starting in the other room and they went through to join in the rest of the evening.


	7. Chapter 7

In the drawing room Edith was playing some light music while Sybil sat between her two grandmothers listening patiently to their contradictory advice about child rearing, none of which she was actually going to go by. Still, they meant well and could not help it if her life was one they could not comprehend. She would not rob them of this imparting of their hard-earned wisdom for anything, for despite granny's serious and stern face she knew her well enough to know that this new addition to the family, no matter where it came from, brought her joy, not generally having anticipated still being around to see the family continue into the third generation from her.

Mary was discussing matters with Tom very matter-of-factly.

"Mr Branson, Matthew and I will be travelling to Ripon tomorrow to arrange the outfits for the male members of the bridal party. We would consider it an honour if you would allow us to include you within the party and get you a matching suit." Tom was taken aback at this frank proposal, not aware of how long it had been discussed. Last week the issue had come to a head in the conversations surrounding the wedding, and eventually it was agreed that the impact of Sybil's husband would be lessened if they could control what he would be wearing. They all had to admit that they would be unlikely to control anything else, least of all his tongue, but if most people assumed he was one of them from the get go rather than him wearing one of those ghastly pre-tied bow ties they would be halfway there.

"It would be my honour, Lady Mary. Thank you."

"Very well. We will all take two motors between us, and take luncheon in the town as we might take some time and will have several errands to run while there."

"Who else will be going?"

"Mama, Papa, Matthew, Isobel, Granny and Grandmamma; they all come as a set these days, I am afraid. Papa's cousin 'Shrimpie'" at this she rolled her eyes disparagingly, "- the Marquess of Flintshire - will be joining us there. Matthew has not told me who his best man is to be, but that is all up to him, and I suppose whoever it is will have to also have a suit, and it cannot be papa as he is giving me away." Mary realised by the shadow passing his eyes that discussing their father giving her away was not the best topic of conversation with him, and she could well understand. "Has Sybil mentioned 'Shrimpie' at all to you?"

"No. Will she not be coming to the tailor's tomorrow?"

"Mama is insisting she stays at home to rest after your journey. Don't worry, mama and I will look after you and I have no doubt Isobel will as well. She has been a major champion for you all of these months you know. I would steer clear of the Flintshire family though. They're not very nice and a bigger bunch of gossips could not be had. They bore everyone to tears and are very envious of Downton, not being of the male line themselves, although he is pretty powerful himself." Branson did not wish to discuss the power men around them had so changed the topic.

"Have you enjoyed having your sister back? She was worried you would be upset about her being so pregnant for the wedding."

"She's a darling and is too concerned about me, but I am so pleased to see her, and looking so well," for the first time in their conversation Tom noticed the façade that was Lady Mary's face lift and the genuine affection for her sister light it up. It made her infinitely more beautiful in his eyes. "I am grateful to you for making her so happy, truly."

"And I am so glad that you and Mr Crawley will be married, as is Sybil. I hope you will both be happy always, truly I do."

"Thank you." She sized him up curiously before both of their attentions were snapped to the other side of the room.

"You play beautifully, Edith darling, but where is your pep? Scoot over and let grandmamma have a turn." Martha almost forced Edith off the stool, but she happily made her way over to Tom and Mary.

"I hope you realise Mary and I will spoil your child rotten and compete constantly to be the best-loved aunty," she said as she sat and Mary toasted her with her glass in complete agreement. Tom gulped as Martha started up a very modern, jazzy number from the States, singing to accompany herself.

"Lady Edith, I wonder if you would care to … jive with me. Sybil says you're very keen and are surely a lovely dancer judging by how well you used to do ballet." She looked from his proffered hand into his earnest face, surprised to see no hint of mockery there, and flushed. Before she knew it she was in the middle of the room, looking to her sister for reassurance that she was fine with her dancing with her husband (and that he could indeed dance) and received a delighted smile. She nodded at Branson's enquiring face to let him know she was ready and they started to hop around the room, gingerly at first and then with increased gusto as they got accustomed to each other. Edith was pleasantly surprised with how well he danced, and remembered some of Sybil's earlier letters mentioning dances they had gone to before events in Dublin became more serious and dancing became rarer.

It was with a touch of surprise that Robert and Cora entered the room to find Martha playing and singing merrily with their shiest daughter radiantly dancing around the room very gracefully and with a smile to gladden any parent's heart. Neither could remember her looking more beautiful and the thought turned them to their other daughters. Cora looked at Mary and mused how within a month she would lose her second daughter to a husband, and that they had shared little lightness in the past few months, so determined to do so now as she sat down beside her and they shared a little giggle with each other.

Robert looked over to where Sybil was beaming at her husband and sister, next to his stony-faced mama, and he strode over to her. As he towered over her she paused uncertainly looking up to him with a slight smile, which he returned as he sat beside her and cuddled her. She tucked her head in his shoulder and they both felt a calmness descend despite the din of the room.

Tom was actually having a whale of a time and as they stopped to some slight clapping he looked over to his wife who had fallen asleep on her father's shoulder. He felt a lot lighter than he had expected he ever would there and for the first time could conceive of calling these people family.

"There's that pep I knew you had in you!" Martha declared to the room at large.

"Edith! Wherever did you learn to dance so magnificently?" Cora asked while holding Mary's hand. She did not receive an answer, but none was expected.

"Thank you very much, Lady Edith. Your sister was right, you are a delightful dancer."

"You're not too bad yourself. And please, Tom, call me Edith. I think you probably know me better than the rest of my family excepting Sybil, so it would seem silly otherwise."

"Thank you, Edith. That means a lot to me. I should probably take my wife to bed."

"Yes, she does seem to sleep a lot, doesn't she?"

"And it's the perfect place to do it. Not that I meant… sorry!" he kicked himself for the slight insult.

"It's ok."

"And when do I get to meet Sir Anthony Strallan Sybil has told me about?"

"Mama has asked me to invite him to dinner tomorrow, actually." She would not say that she had done so to have an extra male buffer between Tom and Robert after dinner, but wondered if that was even necessary now papa seemed to be mellowing.

"I look forward to it. Good night, Edith."

"Good night, Tom."

Edith watched Tom walk over to where his wife was with their father and exchange a few words with the man before the pair of them helped stand Sybil up and she left on her husband's shoulder. She was aware of a sad look passing her father's features briefly before he turned to her.

Robert had been thoroughly wrapped up in his youngest daughter and was aware of her falling asleep on him as she had done so many times before. He held her even closer and kissed her hair, taking in her familiar scent as he did so. He hadn't realised how much he had ached with missing her, as he would any of his children, as he had when Matthew was in the war. Right now, in this lovely moment of family harmony and with not having to face her pregnant belly or her husband, he could pretend things were as they had been and he felt the familiar, safe old feelings rush back, near to overwhelming him. Over Sybil's shoulder he saw his mother eying him curiously, so fought to keep his feelings in check.

Then _he_ came over and took her from him, again, shattering the moment and his feelings. They exchanged a few words and he helped the man lead her away to bed. He knew she should indeed go and rest, but had not wanted to let her go quite yet. That, he supposed, was the story of their relationship. He wondered if he would ever get used to this, to having every moment with her interrupted by her new life, but supposed that was how it was when children grew up. Soon it would be Mary and perhaps not long after Edith as well. He turned to face his elder children and saw Edith chatting with her grandmamma in the centre of the room and decided to make the most of what time he had remaining with her. As for Sybil and Mr Branson, he would find it really hard, but he would be well mannered with them both and even warm with Sybil, even though for now at least it was mostly just for show. It would indeed be hard, but he really loved his daughters and was that not what love was – putting yourself through strife for their happiness? After all, if he could put up with Martha for Cora's sake then surely he could put up with Mr Tom Branson for Sybil's.

"I don't suppose you would teach me a few of your steps, unless you think me too old?" Edith was surprised, but pleasantly so. She had been concerned he would be slightly angered that she had clearly spent all of this time in dance halls without him being any the wiser. The last thing she had expected was him wanting to be a part of it. By the end of an hour he was tired but pleased with how well he had done.

"We need more practice over the next few weeks. I want to do a modern dance at the wedding, show everyone there's still life in me yet."

Nobody noticed the furtive glances between the Dowager Countess and Lady Mary that had nothing to do with the events of the day.


	8. Chapter 8

The following morning Sybil woke to the sound of birds chirping, a noise she hadn't realised she had missed. Everything in Dublin was more frantic noise, and she loved it too, but she had to admit there was a certain tranquillity to the peace at Downton which was nice to visit every so often. She could feel her husband's arm around her and looked up to see that he was awake and smiling slightly at her.

"Did you sleep much?" She asked him, knowing that she had. It had been a long time since she had felt so well rested. She supposed having spent yesterday morning travelling, and then receiving that loving embrace from her father after dinner had meant her body was ready for rest and her mind was at peace for it. She smiled at the memory.

"A little. I am not used to the big house with the sounds of people getting up early and moving around everywhere, but I think I will be fine tonight." She knew it was a half-truth and that he was both nervous and not at home as she was here. They embraced briefly, as much as Peanut would allow.

"It is a lovely morning, shall we go for a walk?" He immediately agreed and they quickly threw some clothes on, occasionally helping each other with their dress, both eager to step out of the confines of the house.

"I get to meet Shrimpie today," Tom casually mentioned, but felt her hand stiffen and her face pale. "I hear he is not very nice."

"That is an understatement, though Granny says it does not matter as he is useful! I wish I was coming with you. I am sure I can convince mama if you would like."

"I need to be alone with them some time, sweetheart, and I think your mother is determined that you stay home and rest today."

"I have rested. I have plans unless you wanted me to come – they can be put off for a day or two."

"No need. I am determined now. And I had a feeling that your mother wished to shield you from my first meeting with Shrimpie and his family."

"I should be the one protecting you from all of them, and I do recommend you don't call him Shrimpie to his face unless he says you can." He just laughed. "But if you are sure, then I have little desire to go to men's suit fittings when I am sure to have a dress fitting that will last forever in a day or two."

"So what plans do you have today?"

"I'll tell you if they come to fruition." He was used to her secrecy and respected her privacy, despite always feeling a little worried when she disappeared off alone.

"Well, please just let someone know where you have gone. I was so very worried that day that you and Gwen went for her interview and nobody had any idea where you really were."

"I will, I promise." As they reached the bottom of the grand staircase she spotted the servants' door. "Do you think we should pop our heads in on downstairs before we head out? I heard Thomas and O'Brien in my parents' rooms, and it would be best if they are not there when we first see the rest of the staff again."

"I think Carson would not like us there either."

"He will be preparing the dining room and awaiting the first of us down for breakfast. I don't think anyone else will have a problem, but we can always leave if they do. I know you wanted to see them all, as do I, and that it is awkward, but I really think now is the best time before we have been here too long."

"How can you handle being right so much of the time?" he smirked at her.

"I bear it as well as I can."

"You know, I did at least see Anna yesterday." At the laugh she gave he knew she had heard.

"Yes, she told me." He smiled back bashfully as, hand in hand, they descended the stairs to the kitchens, knowing it would be a reasonable time for them all – the kitchen staff will have finished the breakfast rush and there would be a small lull for the staff except the valets and ladies' maids. And Carson.

As they entered there was a gentle scraping of chairs as people uncertainly got to their feet, though not all of them seemed to think this was necessary.

"Please, don't trouble yourselves. We just wanted to come and say hello, but if we are interrupting or unwelcome then we shall just leave through the back to go for a walk." Tom could not believe how chipper and confident she sounded and the whole room seemed to lighten a shade despite the continued nervous silence.

"Don't be daft, it's wonderful to see you," Daisy countered and pulled out a chair for Lady Sybil. Being below Mrs Patmore she felt more assured of being friendly to the couple than those directly below Mr Carson, or even Mrs Hughes. "Hello Mr Branson."

"Hello Daisy. You're looking really well." They shared a genuine smile. She thought their story so romantic, but had not seen it first-hand until now. She was both touched and gratified that they had made the effort to visit them, and to get a chance to see how they looked at each other. She knew William had looked at her that way too, but Lady Sybil returned the look and that made it so right.

"Thank you, as do you. But not as much as you, La- I mean Mrs Branson." She beamed at Sybil's protruding stomach with awe. She could not remember the last time she saw a pregnant lady up close, certainly not since her young childhood.

"Mr Carson says we are to address her as Lady Sybil," a young footman neither of them knew piped up.

"She is in the room you know!" Daisy seemed to be liking a little seniority.

"Mrs Patmore, thank you ever so much for the wonderful cooking lessons. They have helped me no end."

"She's still making things lumpy, but you get used to that after a while!" There was a light chuckle to Tom's words from all of the kitchen maids who had helped and watched Sybil in her early forays in the kitchen and well knew her white sauces left something to be desired. Although Mrs Patmore could be a hard taskmaster she also enjoyed the lighter side of life and being in her kitchen was, most of them thought, the merriest place to be in the house, and none of them feared reprisal much.

"Well, congratulations to the pair of you I must say. A child is definitely worth being grateful for. It is just a shame if they have to grow up in the fighting over in Ireland. I hear it's horrendous, and after the War to end all Wars. If only that were the case." Mrs Patmore started chirpy but descended into her usual gloom when talking of war.

"Can we get you a cup of tea?"

"No thank you Daisy. We don't want to keep you now but maybe another time? Don't feel you have to be strangers." At her husband's words Sybil stood and they bade the room a good day, half bumping into Mrs Hughes on the way out.

"Well, I did not expect to see you two down here."

"We just wanted to say a quick hello to everyone, yourself included, Mrs Hughes," Tom smiled uncertainly at her. She did not have an overly welcoming face. "But we will be getting out of your hair now." She walked with them to the back door.

"How are you both faring? Married life treating you well?" The look they gave each other spoke louder than any words could. She had indeed seen some life, but had rarely seen such adoration in both sides of a couple, and never had she seen two people who could be so happy with life in a country immersed in fighting.

"Can't complain, Mrs Hughes. How are you and how are things here?"

"Settling down I think, Mr Branson, and I have been very well thank you." She felt only able to offer a limited olive branch to the pair due to her loyalty to Mr Carson, but they seemed grateful even for that. She thought Carson was a little too against them, but then she did respect him so much she could not completely belittle his opinions. There were rules for a reason after all. "Congratulations on your marriage and expected babe," were her parting words as they stepped outdoors. Nobody saw Thomas on the stairs taking in the scene.

"Her Ladyship is already at breakfast; she was hoping you'd be there," were the blunt words that greeted them from a cloud of smoke as they went through the courtyard. Miss O'Brien made it plain that she disapproved of them completely, but they did not know that the main cause for this was her distaste for the tears Lady Cora had shed after her daughter's departure to Ireland, or the long periods of fear for her daughter's safety. No, Miss O'Brien thought the pair of them completely selfish. After all, if she had not selflessly given her life to Lady Cora then might not she have found true love? Perhaps with that telephone salesman, or one of the many valets to pass through these halls. She used to dream, but that had been so long ago she had forgotten how, or even what those dreams had contained. She watched as Thomas grew and learnt that dreams and love were both idle fancies for the likes of them and felt somewhat comforted to have a similar soul. These two were so alien to her that it felt like her body naturally repulsed them as with some disease.

"Thank you, O'Brien. We will head there now." Tom and Sybil had gripped each other's hands on hearing her voice and walked around the house to the front entrance reminded of how little alone time they would get while at Downton.

"Don't worry; they are not usually such early risers. In a few days the novelty of seeing us will have worn off." He smiled wanly not completely believing her words and opened the front door for her.

Breakfast was rather quiet – well, Tom would think so as it was so much quieter than at his ma's – but pleasant enough. All of the household were around the same table and, as everyone helped themselves from the buffet for breakfast anyway, that uncomfortableness of the night before was avoided.

After breakfast they were each dragged their separate ways with only enough time to peck each other goodbye and wish each other a good day. Cora took Sybil away to settle her for the day of rest she wished her to have and Tom was told he had ten minutes until they were to leave, so quickly had to finish getting ready to go out. Sybil felt like she was abandoning him to a fate he was ignorant of but reminded herself of his earlier reassurances. If they were really to become family they needed to spend some time together without her there in the middle. So she settled herself down with a book until some time after she had heard the motors depart to make certain they would not return before she made her way down the stairs again.


	9. Chapter 9

Sybil sat happily on the bus musing how she had never once taken it in all of the years living in the area. There again, she had had a good reason for wanting to travel by car.

She got off at the point mentioned by a slightly troubled Mrs Hughes when she had asked her earlier this morning helped down the final step by a gallant young farm worker. In truth, she had come to expect far more gentlemanly behaviour from men of the working class than from the so-called gentleman class.

Knocking at the door she wondered how she would be received and could hear some noise from inside. Ethel opened her front door with a look of absolute shock, and instantly looked around at her small house while reddening.

"Lady Sybil, what are you…?"

"Hello Ethel. Might I come in, my back's killing me." Ethel could not resist the plea, remembering what it was like being heavily pregnant, though sure the woman before her would not go through the same harrowing loneliness she had. "And I am Mrs Branson now," she added casually as she sat down.

"Branson, as in the chauffeur?"

"We got married last year."

"You never did!" Both women giggled slightly. "I bet they didn't like it up there at the house very much. I wonder why Mrs Hughes never said."

"She has never been one for gossiping." Charlie waddled up to Sybil who picked him up and played with him. "Ethel, I am sorry to intrude on you, but I wanted to see how you were doing, and I brought along this cake for the pair of you."

"We are doing perfectly fine, your ladyship." Sybil recognised the proud tone covering a lie from her dealings with those in similar situations in Ireland. Her work in a mother's and children's hospital, besides being preferred by her husband as not having 'randy' men constantly vying for her attention, afforded her the ability to really see what these single mothers went through.

"Please, just call me Sybil. Or Mrs Branson if that makes you feel more comfortable. Look, Ethel, I just wanted you to know that there are some great initiatives in the larger cities now for single mothers. The war did leave a number of them and people ask fewer questions in the cities. We stopped in Liverpool on the way here and I visited a friend of mine from my nursing school. She was interested in the scheme I have started in Dublin to help nurses continue working once they have had children. She would like to try to start running it, but would want somebody with experience with children but not wishing to work as a nurse to help run it full time. I thought of you, as you could still be with Charlie during the days while he is young enough. I am sorry if this seems too presumptuous but I thought I would run it by you anyway."

"Thank you for thinking of me and believing in me, but I do not think I would wish to raise Charlie in the city. I have a lot of support around here now and I have heard such bad things about the kids who run around inner cities." Sybil stroked her own belly, sure she didn't feel any concerns about raising her child in a city. The schools were better, opportunities better, but she held her tongue. These things were not likely as important to Ethel as to her and Tom and it was Ethel's decision to be made and seeing as she had lived all of her life in the country and only heard negative rumours about the cities it was no wonder she would make such a choice.

"That is fine, but I would like you to know you have my support, and if you need a reference then please do rely on me. I have written them before. Charlie really is a delight."

"Yes, I am so lucky to have him." They chatted amicably while sharing tea and some of the cake she had brought before she needed to catch her return bus.

"I hope you know how much I admire you."

"Admire me? After what I did?"

"You both made a bad decision, but Major Bryant ran away from the consequences and you faced them head on, forging a hard but worthwhile life for yourself and your son. I am not sure I would have been strong enough to do that on my own. You should be very proud of yourself, as I am sure Charlie will be one day." Seeing her former mistress on her doorstep, and hearing she had married the Irish chauffeur and was now working in Dublin was nothing in comparison to how taken aback she was at hearing these words.

"Thank you, Mrs Branson. Good luck with the babe."

"Good luck to you too, Ethel. Bye bye Charlie!" And she was gone leaving Ethel believing, just a little bit, that there was some worth to her and perhaps the future would not have to be quite so bleak after all.

* * *

Sybil was unperturbed by her declining the offer of Liverpool, but still wanted to help Ethel even a little. She felt partially responsible for she had convinced the habitants of Downton to accept the recovering men into their fold, and the results for Ethel had not been great, despite Charlie being a blessing. Her mind fixed on sorting out one of the old bicycles rusting away to give to her. She had mentioned how long a walk it was for her to get to work and how hard it was for Charlie's little legs. She had seen people with seats for their children on the back of their bikes. She was sure she could get Lynch to help, and maybe Tom could knock something up for the child to sit in on the back. He was very good with his hands and had made their own child the most beautiful crib.

As she started through the outer grounds of her father's grand estate she felt a little light headed and sick of a sudden. Perhaps it was the heat; the rains definitely needed to come to cool the air down a little. Nonetheless she felt a slight terror jump in her throat at being in the middle of the woods all alone if something was happening with the baby. Trying to calm herself, she found a stump to sit on hoping the wave would pass, not wishing to faint in her condition. She was not aware of the pair of eyes that fell on her.

Thomas was on his way back from the village where he had made the most of a day without being needed by Lord Grantham for a drink or two at the pub. He was not overly surprised at seeing Lady Sybil hop off a bus a little way ahead of him and head down the path to the house, but he was surprised a short time later when he saw her holding her chest and looking like she was panicking.

He was hidden in the bushes instinctively. In the past he would have unquestionably stayed there not wishing to get involved in anything dramatic, always preferring to watch and incite events, but something inside him could not leave her there on her own in clear distress.

"Lady Sybil," he could not bring himself to use her married name, and officially she was still Lady Sybil. She didn't seem to care now how she was addressed, the relief on her face at seeing a familiar face very obvious. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Mr Barrow, thank goodness." Years spent in the medical corps, actually alongside her for some of it, drove his following actions as he crouched on the ground in front on her looking keenly at her face. Propriety and his dislike for his fellow man forgotten (he actually liked this human more than most), he laid his hand on her forehead.

"Can you tell me what the matter is? Do you feel queasy? Is it the child?"

"I feel rather foolish now. I just felt rather lightheaded and slightly sick, but that seems to have passed. But then I started to panic at being alone here if I was having a problem, but your being here has made me feel a lot better. I think I just need some water." She was aware now that she had been a little alarmed at the slight feeling of contractions too, but with her nursing knowledge knew them to just be Braxton Hicks contractions. She did not feel like sharing these with Mr Barrow, even though he had medical knowledge of his own.

"Do you think you can make it back if I help you?" She felt a little wobbly, but he was stronger than she would have thought and they gingerly made their way back to the house.

"Do you know what the time is?" she asked hearing her stomach growl, all at once keenly aware that all she had had since breakfast was a small piece of cake.

"Twenty after two," he replied checking the pocket watch he had bought with his first money received as a valet. It was very grand-looking, but he had gotten it at a real bargain as it had not been working. He was very good at fixing clocks so that had not put him off of his purchase.

"I suppose I should have something to eat when I get back too." They fell back into silence, but Sybil felt she needed to talk to keep her mind focussed. "Do you ever miss working at the hospital, or the convalescent home?"

"Not really. There was a certain freedom to it I rather liked but I had had far too much of the war by the time I got sent home from the front. It was hard to keep seeing the men…"

"I sometimes feel bad that I do not think I remember every man who passed through my care by died. I feel I should remember them all," she continued with the thought she perceived he was having.

"I do not think that is possible."

"But you remember some of them too, more than others I mean?" Where was she heading with this, he wondered. "Do you remember Lieutenant Courtenay?"

"Yes," he simply replied, but his heart constricted. He could not forget the man, despite it having been years since he had taken his life. He remembered Nurse Crawley as she was then also standing up alongside him for the vulnerable man and how his heart had gladdened at her support, little good though it had done. Since then he had warmed to her greatly, and she to him. She had been the one to share a cigarette with him when he had finally pulled himself together to stop crying after Edward's death, and it was a different experience from sharing a smoke with Miss O'Brien or one of the fellows from his regiment. He discovered quite quickly that that had been her first cigarette when she choked on it. She did not take up very regular smoking, but they did share some smokes from time to time over the years. He felt a little uncomfortable at being near her nowadays, everything having shifted so much since the war and him unused to having many positive feelings of another person.

"I do often think of him, and how if it had not been for him we might not have had a convalescent home here in the first place. Still, it is an awful shame. He seemed a very lovely man." She looked at him with an expression that told him she knew his tendencies and accepted them wholly. The matter would never be discussed between them, but the idea that somebody had some level of acceptance leapt in his heart.

They stood still as they looked at the imposing house now in sight both musing on how ill they both fit there.

"Thank you for your help, it is very much appreciated. I would also appreciate you not mentioning to anyone, least of all my mother or my husband."

"My lips are sealed."

"Thank you. I do wonder at your still being here though. You are a very bright man and I know you do not lack ambition."

"It is hard to break out of where you are born for most of us."

"Times are changing, things are getting easier. Don't let time pass you by. I hope at least you are voting now you are able." His look told her he hadn't been. "I have heard you complain many times about the way things are, but you cannot expect them to change if you won't even make the effort to go out and vote." He didn't feel like being lectured, remembering the side of her his disliked.

"It must be strange to have a new life inside of you."

"Would you like to feel? The babe's kicking at the moment?" His eyes opened in shock, never expecting for one moment she would offer such a thing and even less expecting her to grab his hand and hold it to her belly. When he worked as a medical officer it had all been for war-ravaged men, not expectant mothers, and even had he worked with them he would unlikely ever have been allowed such intimacy as this.

But the feel of a new life not yet having started to be ruined sent a jolt through him and he could not help but smile.

"Strong lad isn't he."

"You know, most people do assume it's a he, myself included. I think Tom is secretly hoping for a little girl he can spoil, though."

"I don't suppose I shall ever be having one of those," he said as he removed his hand abruptly.

"Have you ever wanted one?" She was genuinely curious, and the question echoed in his mind, not having meant to come out of his mouth. He had never really thought about it, but would have assumed the answer to be no. But now he was not so sure.

A miniscule thought popped into Sybil's head, but it at once became an avalanche tumbling through her mind at speed and shooting out of her mouth.

"Because you know you don't have to have been with a child's mother to truly be their father. I was with Ethel earlier, and I am sure she would welcome a step father for Charlie, no matter what the terms, if he were a decent sort of man and would treat him right and help support her in raising him. Charlie would still be young enough to not know that the man was not his real father. And although some men would find it hard to not be their true father, you still get to do all of the important things, the loving and the moulding of them."

Was she really saying what he thought she was saying?

Mr Barrow's face was expressionless as he looked over her head. She worried she might have crossed a line.

"Sorry, I…"

"Sybil!" Her face broke into a huge grin as she turned to see her husband striding over to her, the motors continuing up the drive behind him. They quickly embraced. "What were you doing with him?" He nodded towards Thomas and she spun to see he had already walked some way off, glaring over his shoulder at them briefly.

"We were just talking. How was your fitting?" She grabbed his hand and started walking, him following her lead.

"Not too bad I suppose. Shrimpie makes the rest of your family seem extremely welcoming. Hang on, where are we going? Your mother said we are about to have tea."

"Oh, it will take them all twenty minutes to get ready, sorting their hair and putting away their purchases. I just want to have a quick word with Lynch before we go in." And with that she told him of what she had been up to, and her plans (for the bicycle, not for matchmaking), and he agreed to help her with it as they discussed the idea with Lynch together. She did not tell him of the turn she'd had in the woods; there was no need to worry him and she had learnt her lesson that perhaps everyone was right and she should really start taking it easy. At least until she had the child.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the long chapter and long absence before posting it. Time to meet Shrimpie! :D**

Lynch covered up his surprise at the request formidably as he was used to and quite fond of Lady Sybil, rather Mrs Branson's, foibles. He was glad to have the chance to shake Mr Branson's hand and offer his congratulations to them both in the privacy of the stables as he was rather fond of the young man. The pair had worked together more than once as both were tasked with ferrying of the family.

He told the couple he had a few old bikes the family had used in the past knocking about and he would find the best one for their purposes in the next few days. Neither of them had mentioned for whom the bike was intended, and naturally he had assumed it would be for Mrs Branson and her soon to be child.

"How was it really?" Sybil asked as they walked arm in arm back to the house for afternoon tea. He chuckled lightly as he noticed the eagerness of her steps towards the food.

"Not too bad," was his brief reply. "I wish it were not so hot now though. It needs to rain and it's making me antsy in this get-up. I can get away with taking my jacket off more back home." It was Sybil's turn to chuckle now, and Tom loved how it sounded like the brook in their favourite walking area near Dublin. "What?"

"We are turning you English now, aren't we? Remarking upon the weather when you want to avoid a difficult topic! Well, I won't push you, but thank you for going through that for me."

In truth it really was not so bad, but the grateful kiss she bestowed seemed to end the topic so he did not see the point in relaying any more, though the whole day passed through his mind.

He had gone in the same car with Lord and Lady Grantham and Lady Mary, with stinted conversation. Lady Mary seemed pleased that his presence stopped the usual wedding-based griping from her mother and she decided to ensure the conversation remained hers to control. He was easily pliable as long as it distracted him from wanting to fiddle with his tie.

"So do you and Sybil get to dances often, Mr Branson? You did seem to pick up a new partner rather easily last night."

"We did go more when we first arrived in Dublin; and that type of dance does welcome new partners. But as things have gotten a little worse out in Ireland fewer people have been going out at night, us included. Especially with the babe on the way, there seemed little point." He was not oblivious to Cora holding her husband's hand tighter to keep his comments at bay when the troubles in Ireland were brought up. He was well aware that at some point in the visit there would be a serious conversation with them about the practicality of their daughter living in a dangerous climate but it seemed now was not deemed the time. He supposed he had to enjoy the time before the wedding as a sort of ceasefire. "Of course, on special occasions we will have a ceili and they get you into dancing with anybody and everybody."

"I remember you had one of those after your wedding breakfast. Sybil seemed to really like it."

"Yes, it can be a good way to mingle for a newly married couple. I do seem to remember Edith dancing rather well there too." This time he was not aware of the subtle nuances around the carriage between the three people who still found it uncomfortable to hear him mention Edith's name without the precursor of _Lady_. Cora always loved and hated to hear about her youngest daughter's wedding feeling both guilty and glad of not attending, and loving to hear snippets that truly made her confident of her child's happiness.

"And how are you with the type of dances we will be having after Mary's wedding breakfast?"

"I can get about with those all right, Cora, but I dare say not as gracefully as your family. I did dance a number of the dances at the old servants' balls, though of course not as many as the others as I still had my duties to attend to."

_The servants' ball?_ Robert's mind reeled at the mention of it, and he forced himself to not try to wonder whether Branson had ever danced with Sybil at one of them. He needed to speak to push back the intruding thoughts, though found finding a topic of mutual interest that did not spark argument with the man incredibly hard.

"Well, I do insist on several of these more modern dances, and I meant what I said; I fully intend to dance one with Edith. Let's not warn my mother of it though." They all smiled in unison at the thought of her face seeing him jive about in front of most of London's society. Robert felt proud he seemed to have managed to say something right for once, feeling his wife's grateful eyes upon him as they pulled up to the tailor's.

The Dowager Countess was sat inside tapping her foot impatiently, and Isobel was sat on a chair next to her facing the other way. Cora had told Tom earlier that Lady Violet would be taking her horse-drawn carriage and would pick up Matthew and Isobel en route. When he had asked where the other car was going, she smiled coyly announcing Edith had taken it to pick up Sir Anthony. She had apparently asked Mary to include him in the wedding party. Cora did not tell him that one of the points mentioned was that if Tom was to be an usher, despite where he came from, then Anthony should surely be one as well considering _his_ background and the fact he might very soon be her brother-in-law too. Edith had been shocked by Mary's easy acquiescence but in truth she had thought another usher was an excellent idea considering the number of people who had to be seated in very strict precedence.

More tea was poured for the party by the obliging assistant of the store. The gentleman who ran the tailor's was seeing to Matthew out the back, and once his suit was confirmed then the other men would follow him back there to be kitted out.

"Tom, I wonder if I might have your opinion on a wedding gift," Isobel instantly demanded upon seeing him, strolling purposefully to a far corner where there were cufflinks and handkerchiefs displayed, clearly brooking no argument. A small sigh of relief descended across the room as dutiful conversations turned to ones of more depth. Tom and Isobel got on rather well when out of earshot of other people and she needed someone to take her from Cousin Violet's presence and soon. Violet was feeling the same way about Isobel.

"Dratted woman, trying to convince me that Sybil marrying him was a good thing for our family," she muttered to Robert, Cora and Mary as they sat to have some tea with her. They were all glad to have a moment to themselves without outsiders and fell to their ease.

"I don't think I would ever go that far, but he could be a lot worse." Violet looked as if she disagreed with this statement of her daughter-in-law's, but Cora rarely received any other sort of look from her. "I don't think you thought any differently of me when I first joined the family."

"I don't think Sybil would like us gossiping about him when he is just over there," Mary added.

"Perhaps not. So, my dear, have you had any more thought about the floral stands. I really do think the Iris is an unwise choice…" Mary hid a roll of her eyes and pursing of her lips behind her cup of tea, preparing herself for another battle with her family in the War of her Wedding when Matthew emerged fully clad in a well-fitted suit taking her breath away and managing to make her have to put down her teacup.

"Matthew!" she exclaimed standing, ignoring her grandmother's petering out nonsenses. "You look amazing." She rarely complimented his appearance and he was exceedingly gratified by her expressiveness in this case. They each shone alone for each other in this moment, the first one where she truly felt the reality of him and their marriage in the midst of this wedding fiasco, and it made her know with full certainty that everything was worth it. She walked up to him, needing to touch him albeit lightly on the cuff or collar to ensure he was indeed real. He could see the emotion in her eyes when their gazes met and felt a similar wave wash over him, but with a whole room of Crawleys watching he could not act on it as he wished. "This is how you will look when we promise ourselves to each other?"

"There is another I like also, but I think I am decided on this one now after this reaction."

"No, we can see the other one."

"I would like to remember this moment on our wedding day, my darling," he beamed boyishly at her as he pecked her chastely on the cheek, and she knew that he was right and that no other suit could now compare. "I suppose you other chaps should come and try on your suits too," Matthew announced forcing himself and his bride-to-be back to the present. Just in time as well, for with that Anthony and Edith entered the shop chatting with Lord and Lady Flintshire and Mary's cousin, Rose.

Matthew felt the entire room tense up. He had only met the Flintshires on a handful of occasions and found them to be amiable enough, but Mary had recently given him a lot more gossip of the two families' relationship. It was barely needed to tell that Edith and Rose, who was slightly younger than all the Crawley girls, held a lot of animosity to each other and the latter was making an overt display of friendliness to Strallan which Edith clearly did not like a bit. Of course, Anthony was oblivious to it and Matthew knew that some light flirting from a trouble maker like her would not deviate his affection to Edith, but his soon to be sister in law's confidence did not make her think so.

He felt himself pulled along in Mary's wake as she swept over to the Flintshires and embraced them. Rose half ignored her, she and Mary hating each other even more than Rose and Edith.

"Is Sybil not here?" Sybil was the only one of the Crawleys who got on well enough with Rose. It had started with a necessity to keep her out of her elder sisters' hair when they were playing together as little girls. She hated it when her big sisters got in a bad mood and it was never so bad as when Rose wound them up.

She had not liked her too well for the longest time either, but Rose had convinced herself they were closer than sisters and would secretly idolise her, sneaking into her room during visits to stay up half the night and listen raptly as Sybil expounded passionately about the future and women's role in it. Sybil found her an attentive and intelligent partner at such times as they hid under the blankets together and really rather liked her, but in the light of day she always seemed to return to the nasty and spoilt girl she was in front of everyone else, which confounded the slightly elder girl.

"Sybil is at home resting after her long journey yesterday," Cora interjected as she tersely exchanged pleasantries with the Flintshires. They more than anyone still disparaged her American heritage even though most other people admitted she had adapted to the life of a Countess with aplomb.

"Ah yes, she lives in Ireland now, I believe? And she is married to…?"

"That would be me, Tom Branson. A pleasure to meet you." Cora and Violet's eyes snapped to each other in alarm not having seen Isobel and Tom return to meet the guests. They had known this moment was upon them but hated already having the feeling of losing the control. Hugh, a.k.a. Shrimpie, was taken aback a little by the vaguely familiar man's brusque accent and irregular suit but automatically stuck his hand out to shake.

"Have we met somewhere before?" Rose was giggling by his side.

"Rose, whatever has gotten into you?" Susan asked of her daughter.

"You have seen him before, papa. He was their chauffeur, I remember thinking him very handsome!" She smiled and winked at Branson in the most alarming way as Hugh pulled his hand roughly from Tom's.

"Chauffeur! You might have warned me," he exclaimed as he rubbed his hand over his suit in a mock show of wiping himself clean. He walked purposefully up to Robert. "What was Sybil thinking of, and what are you thinking of inviting him back here?"

"Oh papa, calm down. The war has robbed us ladies of many potential suitors, you can't blame those who get desperate, like Edith, or look further afield, like Sybil. Though I must say I am disappointed Sybil felt she had to marry at all. " Edith gripped Anthony's hand in indignation and pulled him over to look at the cufflinks. He had not registered what she had said until Edith reacted, but the words began repeating in his head and he could not shake idea of their accuracy.

Rose was very bitter about the whole situation. Being several months younger than Sybil she was due to have her coming out season in 1915, but the war put paid to that, and now the seasons were starting up again she was no longer of debutante age, nor were there very many men to choose from.

Their London town house was very near to the Crawleys' so they would often see each other in earlier seasons, and when Mary had her debutante year she had been so excited to finally get to hear all about it. She remembered crowding in with Edith and Sybil as Mary returned one evening and they all asked her to tell them all about it.

"You are too young at the moment, darlings. You just need to know it was _marvellous_," Mary had shunned them haughtily as she had dreamily waltzed off to her room. She did not want to spoil their illusions of what it was like having to flatter a load of dull men, but overall it really had been marvellous and the whole room had loved her. She could tell she was going to have a truly excellent life in this crowd and when she did find a man she didn't find dull she was wholly confident she would be able to entrance him as she had managed all of the men tonight. And she was determined to enjoy the practise up until then.

Two years later it was Edith's turn, and she had Sybil and Rose's eager faces meeting her as she returned. She had planned on telling them everything, but in truth she had not had a great time of it. She lacked attention, was asked to dance less than most of her friends and, what hurt the most, far less than Mary who was amidst men all evening. So when it had come to talking of it to the younger girls she emulated her elder sister's reply before carrying herself upstairs to cry herself to sleep.

At Sybil's season she had tried to persuade everyone to allow Rose to come to the ball in her honour, but the adults would not allow it, so she found a spot where she could hide to watch it all, and Sybil would sneak away a couple of times to fill her in on everything.

Sybil had a very busy season of it, but each morning she would make time to visit her cousin and fill her in on everything, including the fashions and the men, and she even arranged a couple of photographs to be taken to bring to her. All of this had served to whet the younger girl's appetite for her season the following year and she had come back from London already preparing herself for it, ordering gowns she was never to get to really shine in. She had taken the outbreak of war personally, and when it was not over by Christmas as had been promised she got increasingly bitter and frustrated with the incompetency of the generals. She took her lack of a season as giving her a right to flirt shamelessly with every man she met.

"But Mary here has caught herself a decent fella. Looking good, Matthew." She stroked his arm as she looked him up and down in his wedding suit. He swallowed awkwardly and took a step back, holding his fiancée's hand and hoping Mary would not kill the woman.

"Good to see you all looking so well. Gentlemen, shall we look at your suits?" Matthew awkwardly got the mismatched group of men into the back room with the help of the assistant where they all barely spoke, each involved in his own thoughts. Matthew engineered it so Shrimpie was seen to first so Violet could take the Flintshires away as soon as he was done. He did not like to think of Mary being forced into Rose's company for too long.

Once he was out he pushed Tom into the changing room so that the two men barely saw each other. It left Hugh to have a brief word with Robert, and he did not worry about lowering his tone.

"I always thought Sybil was a bad egg and you needed to rein her in more, and now she has brought herself so low and your whole family into disrepute. No, don't try to defend her. I just want to say that I am not sure yet whether I wish to distance my family from yours, I shall discuss with Aunty Vi and Susan this afternoon and let you know at dinner tonight. But I shall be mindful of letting my Rose be influenced any more by your daughter. She's already filled her head with idiotic notions but I shall be mindful and learn from your mistakes to keep her on a tighter rein and watch what company she keeps. Matthew, Sir Anthony." He swept out of the room after nodding them a farewell and all three men outside the changing room shared a look of incredulousness and relief.

It was all Tom could do to not go out and deck the man, but he was now in his undergarments and in his mind's eye he could see how disappointed Sybil would be if she heard that he had punched her uncle in front of her whole family in his underwear.

A minute later he could hear Matthew, Anthony and Robert talking in hushed tones outside.

"They're gone!"

"What a relief!"

"I must say I did not care for the way he spoke to you."

"Nor did I. I hope they didn't frighten you away from coming to dinner tonight, Sir Anthony."

"Not in the least, but I cannot promise to seek out his company." Tom was lightened to hear that nobody else liked the man and the rest of the time with the family passed rather pleasantly if still rigidly. Tom was overjoyed to learn that the Flintshires would be staying in the Dower House with Lady Violet instead of at Downton itself. They all managed to get the suits arranged, have luncheon while out and run several more errands before returning.

"I told her she should be resting!" Cora resignedly commented as their car pootled up the long drive to Downton Abbey, and Tom followed her gaze seeing his wife in the middle of the grounds speaking to Thomas. She didn't look quite right to him, perhaps a little pale, but he could sense the sparkle of her making schemes from this distance and could not help but smile. But as he saw her grab Thomas' hand and put it on her belly and the pair share a look he felt the smile fade and fire race to his face, wondering what they were talking of so intimately.

"Could you please stop the car?" he asked the new chauffeur opening the door before they had come to a stop. "Excuse me," he said to Robert, Cora and Mary as he stepped out of the car, suddenly realising that the others probably were thinking about how she seemed to have a liking for being too close to any servant named Tom or Thomas. The logical part of his brain forced the feelings akin to jealousy back down thinking them insulting to his wife, trusting her completely and knowing she had a right to talk to anyone she wished to. Still, why did it have to be Thomas of all people? He was such a weasel.


	11. Chapter 11

That evening's dinner was not enjoyed by anyone. Hugh had decided he and his family would stay for dinner and the wedding, but that they would maintain a relatively formal distance from them all in their interactions. Robert found he didn't care and could scarcely tell the difference anyway as they had always been a little standoffish as cousins and their families had followed suit.

Cora felt a despair when her mother made a big point of how she was taking food from the centre of the table rather than being served it and suggested they all did the same. Cora had always maintained a pride in her American past, but sat with her mother acting so gregariously in front of Susan of all people she felt as if she was the newlywed again being watched snidely from unsympathetic types in an alien world. This time however she was comforted slightly by knowing she had become good at her role in life and had the love of her husband, a truly good man, and that they had been happy. She knew the Flintshires were anything but happy. Hugh had had a string of mistresses and it was well known throughout society that he had hit his wife on several occasions, and it was believed he had even struck Rose.

She looked at Rose and then her three daughters and felt such immense love and pride for the three amazing women they had become. Yes, they had all caused their problems in their time and things were not altogether perfect but Cora felt a slight thrill at that and a lot of pleasure that they had all faced the challenges of their generation so admirably, finding their own way through to womanhood and making matches that clearly made each of them so happy in their different ways. Rose seemed to still be sulking against the world and remained stuck in that awkward age seeming to have dug her heels in to remain there interminably.

Through all of the courses there were raised words, and snide remarks from many sides and Cora found the whole evening very trying as she attempted to find some neutral ground to steer the conversation, failing miserably.

"Gentlemen, would you care to remain and take of some brandy with me?" Robert asked as he raised to help his mother out of her chair, ensuring he looked at each of the men, Tom included, in turn as an invitation. There was some relief as the ladies made their way from the room. Sybil smiled encouragingly at Tom, who was a little miffed that she had not wholly supported his discussions with Shrimpie at the table so only managed a weak smile back and she left the room with a heavy heart. Mary looked up at Matthew and indicated Tom with her eyes. He smiled in acknowledgement and she beamed back in gratitude and loving admiration. He found, however, that he had no need to babysit Tom as Anthony had made a beeline for him carrying the three brandies for himself, Tom and Matthew from where Robert and Hugh were sat over the other side of the room.

"So, you used to be the chauffeur, hey?" Tom bristled ready for a confrontation. He had barely spoken to the man today but had thought he seemed rather nice; however the dinner table conversation had put him in a foul mood.

"What of it?" Anthony did not seem to notice the angry tone in the man's voice, but Matthew's nerves were raised as they all took a sip of the very good brandy.

"Well, you must know a great deal of cars. I rather like them myself, but since this happened I have not had the chance to drive." He waved his bandaged arm at the men. "I was wondering what your opinion was on the Hudson Racer." Anthony was worried he'd spoken out of turn as the man in front of him seemed to be silent. "If you know about racing cars at all that is." At this addition Tom's face broke into a huge smile. He was so surprised that a man of his class was even talking to him knowing of his background, let alone using that background as a way of starting conversation eagerly with him.

"Oh, I do indeed. I plan to race them one day myself, and I think the Hudson racer is an excellent motor, it would be one I would consider myself."

"Really? I was planning on getting into racing as well, which is why I bought a Hudson a few years ago. Now it's getting dusty in the garage and I wonder if you wouldn't mind coming and giving it a look over some time?"

"Seriously, Sir Anthony? I would love to."

"Please, one day we might all be brothers, please both call me Anthony. Would you care to come over too, Matthew?"

"That would be super. You know, I have ordered a Deusenberg from America. It's not a racing car, but it should be here in a day or two, let me show you." He brought out his car magazine and was glad of having people who were as keen as he was. He knew Mary would enjoy going for a drive in the car, but she showed little interest in the make of it. These two men were both enthusiasts too and they found they all got on famously. Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a level of equality here in the midst of an upper class tradition of separating from the ladies for brandy.

Robert was sat at a distance with Hugh but observed the other men along the table. At first he had been briefly concerned, but they seemed to be getting on together rather well and he wished he could join them. Playing the role as host meant he could not and had to put up with Hugh's descriptions of their plans to get Rose a husband.

"Of course, since she heard Sybil had married she has turned her back on that suffragette nonsense, which is altogether a good thing. I think we will hold her a ball during the season this year, for she missed hers you know, and though she is not of debutante age any more I think it would be acceptable. We shall not, of course, be inviting Sybil but the rest of you will be welcome, though I shall not blame you if you wish to stay away from society this summer as the news of your daughter's mésalliance will surely come out during the course of this wedding." From your gossipy wife no doubt, Robert mused listening with increased frustration to the non-stop chatter of the obnoxious man who was already on his fourth glass. With each sip of brandy his voice got louder and louder until he had arrested the attention of the other group of men.

"Of course, it will come as no surprise to anyone that she is already with child as why else would she _marry_ such a man? Everybody knows these suffragettes have loose morals; I saw a pamphlet about it in Rose's room once. It would not surprise me if Sybil became a nurse to get closer to the men and likely took several of them while they recovered in this house, not to mention other members of staff as lov- " Tom had had enough and spun around to stop the man from speaking, but he already had been silenced as had the whole room, for as Tom turned he saw Shrimpie on the floor, dazed and with a bloody nose, and his father in law stood above him red-faced with some blood on his clenched fist.

Robert was stunned for an instant, not quite able to believe what he had done, but as he tore his eyes from the pathetic lump on the floor to Tom, Matthew and Anthony he saw three looks of complete respect and agreement for what he had done and his chest swelled with pride. What should he care for the opinion of the likes of his cousin whom he neither liked nor respected? Those three very different men looking at him now had all made his daughters very happy and were all good men, he conceded. None of them would ever raise a hand to one of his girls, all of them would do their level best to make sure each day of his daughters' lives were happy ones, and he had to admire the choices all three of them had made. They were all his family and even if it meant being outcasts to the rest of the world, if he still had them all in his life he knew he would be a happy man.

"What on earth Robert! I insist on an apology at once." Hugh stood facing his glowering cousin.

"I shall not apologise. I am not at all sorry as you were in the wrong." Hugh stormed off. "And besides, I think a man who hits his wife and child should be punched every so often."

"I will not forget this."

"Nor shall I." With that Hugh left the room and Robert made his way to the 3 men as good as sons in law. They all raised their glassed to him and Anthony slapped him on the back.

"What were you all talking about before you were so rudely interrupted."

"Cars. I have invited the chaps to come and see my racer. Would you care to join us? We could make it a man only day."

"I am not a big one for cars, but having spent most of the past thirty years almost solely in the company of ladies I do think a day for us chaps is long overdue." Robert had resolved to stop focussing solely on being a gentleman and allow himself to learn from these three fellows what it was to simply be a man.

"Perhaps we might be able to convince you a little of the joy of cars by the end of it. Shall we say tomorrow?"

"I was thinking of heading for London tomorrow. Some important talks start in a couple of days and I am not needed here for some time." Branson had been rather looking forward to getting some space especially after his disappointment at dinner.

"Can you not hold your trip off for a day?" Robert inquired. It is meant to be jolly fine weather tomorrow and I am keen for it now I have the idea in my head. Do not let Flintshire chase you away."

Tom found he could not refuse it put like that by his suddenly more accepting father in law and acquiesced as they all made plans to spend the following day in each other's company and finish up dining at Sir Anthony's.

* * *

In the parlour the ladies were shocked when the Marquis of Flintshire burst into the room with his face all bloodied and insisted he and his family leave at once, not responding to any inquiry as to what had happened. It was evident to Sybil that Rose and Susan at once suspected her husband of having unjustly punched the man and if she indeed found that to be the case then she knew she would defend him wholeheartedly in front of her family before chiding him in private later. She did think it odd if it were Tom though, for although he had been highly agitated at dinner and clearly clashed with the man he never resorted to violence. She was even more surprised later when they discovered the truth.

All of the women remaining were now on tenterhooks to hear what had happened and were expecting the rest of the men through at any moment, their brandies surely interrupted by the scene that seemed to have occurred. They did not come through for another half an hour however and when they did they all seemed rather jovial and relaxed, a thoroughly unexpected sight.

"We wondered where you had got to," Cora commented as she stood to greet her husband and kiss him lightly.

"Indeed. Uncle Shrimpie came in all a fluster with a bloody nose. Sybil has been trying to convince us you did not hit him, Mr Branson."

"Indeed I did not."

"It was I." Robert felt uneasy at the way his wife, three daughters and mother in law turned to stare at him as if he was insane.

"It was, really," Matthew corroborated with a smile and a glint in his eye.

"And well deserved I might add," agreed Anthony. With that all the women bar Sybil burst out laughing. Sybil tried to mimic their joy but she knew the sort of comments her uncle had likely been making to force her father to deck him and it saddened her. Put on top of that the fact that Tom seemed upset with her and she could not be as happy as the rest of the room. A few minutes later she excused herself to take herself off to bed. She was gladdened that Tom hopped to catch up with her and aid her up the stairs, but saddened that he would not meet her eyes.

"Thank you for believing in me – that I didn't hit the bastard!" he started tentatively. It had meant a lot to him that she knew he would not do such a thing.

"Tom!" He was still getting used to the fact that, although she did not mind his bad language in their home in Dublin, she seemed to think it inappropriate here, even when they were alone. "Please mind your language while we are guests under my parents' roof. Of course I knew you didn't do it, but don't take it as such a compliment. I would have insisted my father had not hit him as I would not think it of him either, but evidently I was wrong." He could not help smile a little over at her at that, but was pained to see the expression on her face. She was clearly troubled by thinking on what had prompted her father to such an act. He wished he could alleviate her troubles, but would not lie to her.

Tom saw the shift in her thoughts before she started speaking.

"I am sorry I upset you earlier, by not backing you up more. I just… I just didn't see the point."

"Didn't see the point in making a stand for what is right? That doesn't sound like you," he rose his voice a little as they entered their room and gained a little more privacy. Sybil gratefully flopped onto the bed.

"You don't quite get my meaning. There was no point in the way you were doing it. Do you think for an instant that what you said has gone into that man's thick head? Of course not. The sad fact is that it is mostly arrogant, pig headed men like him you will have to deal with if you get into politics though hopefully far less so in Ireland after the troubles end, and if you talk to them as you talked to him tonight then you will get absolutely nowhere. If you berate them, put them on the defensive, they will raise their shields and everything you say will simply bounce off of them. But if you find a way to talk to them in a way they can relate to and accept, even if it is not natural to you, then you might find a way of getting through to them and actually making a change in this world rather than just shouting angrily about it in the background. I think you would be able to do it really rather well, and I think that being here and meeting the people you will meet at the wedding will be perfect practice for you, if that is what you wish it to be."

Many years of loving her from afar and nigh on a year of being married to her, and she still managed to surprise him utterly. She had clearly given the matter a lot of thought and it all made a lot of sense to him.

"But I still am truly sorry I didn't jump in to defend you more. I hope you know that if you had punched that – _bastard_," she whispered this last word, "then I would have defended you on it until the end of my days." He smiled genuinely at her as she still looked concernedly at him.

"Don't fret about it, darling. I don't expect you to defend your daft and overzealous husband, especially when there is pie on the table. I know you and peanut can't resist pies these days." She beamed up at him and it made him feel such delight. He loved that he had the power in him to make her smile like that.

"I think I plan to be pregnant forever – I get to eat what I want and you let me behave however my mood takes me. Yes, constant pregnancy is the answer."

"That can be arranged," he said coyly as he gently lay down on top of her and kissed her tenderly. "But I had better keep in training." She simply giggled as she kissed him back, glad at how easy their relationship was to keep them both happy.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks to all you lovely reviewers. Hope you are all surviving the pre-S3 excitement! Sorry for the weird time jumps in this chapter. I hope it flows all right and makes sense. :D**

Things had been so busy for Mary lately that it had taken several days to find some quiet time alone with her grandmother, but she finally felt she had to make the time.

"I cannot contact him," she declared bluntly as she sipped her tea at the Dower House.

"I take it you are referring to Mr Napier?"

"Of course I am. I have tried to telephone several times daily since Sybil's arrival and have sent two telegrams, but have not heard back from him. He is due to arrive tomorrow, I am unsure of the time, and he will expect to meet a Sybil ready to be wooed from her husband."

"Rather than pregnant by him," Violet continued the thought.

Mary had been surprised the previous month to bump into Evelyn Napier while she was in London between arranging her wedding attire. They had immediately rekindled their friendly rapport with one another and arranged to have dinner at the Savoy together that evening. As soon as she returned to her Aunt Rosamund's house to change for the evening, she had wasted no time in telephoning Matthew to ensure he did not mind her taking dinner with her former suitor and ensured he knew she would cancel on him at once if he had any problem with it; she was desperately keen to ensure there were no secrets or misunderstandings between them now they were so close to blissful matrimony.

As Matthew had had no problem she spent a nice evening with her friend, musing at how she got on so much better with men than she ever did with women. She was to receive an even bigger surprise during the cheese course when he tentatively broached the topic of whether he had heard right that Sybil had married.

"You have heard right. She is living in Ireland now but will be over for the wedding. I hope you are still coming." Mary twigged from his crestfallen expression at the reason for his seemingly sudden concern for her baby sister.

"Of course I shall, I would not miss it for the world. But I must admit to you, in confidence, that I had been hoping to pay my respects in particular to Lady Sybil."

"I must say I am astonished, I never realised you knew her so well." The pair of them had imbibed a few too many cocktails before dinner and their tongues had become quite loose into the bargain.

"Do you remember when I called off my engagement just before the war? It was because at Lady Sybil's ball, and thereafter during her season, I realised I liked her far more than I did my fiancée. I did not get to speak with her properly when I had visited Downton. With my views on marriage I could no longer in good conscience remain engaged which is why I called it off. I planned to pursue my interest but then the war began and I joined up; I did not feel it right to form an attachment while I was off at war." Mary was surprised as many men had formed attachments precisely _because_ they were going off to war, Matthew included. She also wished for her family's sake that he had been more bold in his suit for her little sister as she imagined with happiness her being married to the man before her instead of to the Irish chauffeur.

"And is this why you wished to convalesce at Downton?"

"It is part of the reason. I have only known a warm welcome in your home from all of you; it is better for the spirit of an injured man, believe me. But when I was there I fell in love with your sister all over again. Several times I thought of mentioning my intentions to her or your father, but it never seemed the right time. Still, I enjoyed watching her going about her nursing duties and felt glad that she seemed to have put life outside of nursing on hold until we had won the war. But I suppose I tarried too long."

He realised he had let his mouth get away from him.

"So tell me of the man she married. He is Irish, I assume, and judging by the expression on your face you are not too fond of him."

"You assume right on both counts, and I am trusting you in complete confidence here as well," she began, not quite sure what had come over her but unable not to tell him everything. "His name is Branson, Tom Branson, and he was our family chauffeur for a number of years – since before the war…" She continued to tell him all of the facts irregardless of the lies her grandmother had told her she must perpetuate. It mattered little as Mr Napier had stopped listening upon the word chauffeur, for he recalled the fact that the one person at Downton who had known of his preference for Lady Sybil had, indeed, been their chauffeur.

As he had come through an irregular route to be convalescing at Downton Abbey, he travelled from Middlesbrough to Downton by train rather than the usual ambulance, and they had sent a car to pick him up from the station. His pain medication was just wearing off as he was helped into the car by a strong and silent man with an open and friendly face.

"Thank you," Evelyn had said to a smile. "You were not here when I visited before."

"No, sir, but I have heard your name mentioned."

"By Lady Sybil?" Branson had disliked the hope in his look and his voice in this and as he finished settling the man in the back seat turned his eyes downwards to hide his own thunderous face.

"No, sir." It was a lie but he didn't care as he shut the car door louder than he ought and stomped the front seat, glad to spot the other man's face falling slightly. It had been Sybil he had heard speak Mr Napier's name, and in positive terms, but then he reminded himself that he heard of most things relating to the house through her, and he rarely heard her speak negatively of someone.

Branson managed to calm himself quickly and return to his professional self. The man in the back had seemed upon first impression as one of the better ones of their sort, and he was rarely wrong with first impressions. He had probably read too much into his comment.

"Tell me, are any of the ladies of the house spoken for?"

"Lady Mary is engaged, but I do believe Lady Violet is available," he quipped and was glad to see an amused smile on his passenger before he turned serious again.

"And what of Lady Sybil?" Now the blood positively raced to Branson's face. So he was not imagining the man's particular interest. He found it truly galling that he was forced to drive this man to go and share the house of the woman he loved, who would be welcome to talk to her on an equal level daily with not only not being frowned upon, but actually being welcomed, and to answer questions regarding her availability to him. Still he knew he would have to answer one way or another.

"She is working very hard as a nurse and does not have time for men, except to care for her patients, and I do not think she would welcome any advances until the war is over and her nursing duties have ceased."

"A nurse? Really? Hmmmm." Branson was glad that Downton was now in view as his blood had reached boiling level. The look on the man's face as he evidently pictured Sybil as a nurse was the same look he had felt the need to wipe off a lad's face who had been admiring his sister, Cathy, while he was still in Dublin.

* * *

As Lady Violet dropped by the hotel to pick up her granddaughter on the way back from the theatre, Mr Napier was left alone with a whiskey and he mused on how the chauffeur to the Crawleys had beaten him as a rival that day in his memory, as he had refrained from pursuing Sybil thanks to the man's words, not having perceived him to be the threat it seems he was.

"How was Mr Napier?" Violet had asked.

"Well." Mary made it evident that was all she was getting for now and indicated Lady Rosamund's driver. She had become far more cagey about what she discussed in cars since her sister's attachment to a chauffeur made her realise how much they could hear.

"Now, what were you being so cagey about saying of Mr Napier?" Granny asked while she sat before a fire with her eldest grandchild.

"Only that he is in love with Sybil, has been for several years, and had been hoping to declare it at our wedding. I wish it weren't too late!"

"Perhaps it isn't, dear. Do you suppose he would still wish to marry her after knowing who she married and after her getting…" she looked around and spoke in a whisper, "_a divorce_?"

"Oh Granny, I don't see Sybil divorcing Branson."

"She might. You mentioned she wrote that he would have to go to London for a week while they are visiting? Arrange it so that Mr Napier comes to stay also, but time his arrival for the day after Branson leaves. Then they might spend some time together and he can try to make her see sense that he is the better option. She had been out in Ireland for almost a year now, surely the novelty and the honeymoon period has worn off now and she is ready to come back to reality. We could hush up _the divorce_, say that he died. People know they live in Ireland so would readily accept a death story. Then she could be free to marry him."

"I suppose…"

"Telephone him now to arrange it. He won't have gone to bed."

So Mary had done just that and he had agreed to the whole scheme, though with some reservations. He did not wish to break up a marriage, but if indeed Sybil was unhappy with her husband and life in Ireland as Mary seemed to suggest then he wished to do something about it.

Now though that the day of his arrival was upon them Mary was cursing the Savoy's very fine cocktails. It seemed he was travelling up the country to Downton and stopping at several friends' houses on the way, and his housekeeper in London was unable to get hold of him to stop his coming so soon, although she had tried constantly since Sybil arrived with a pregnant stomach and very convincing looks of love between her and her husband. Evelyn stood no chance and it would not be fair on him.

Despite how tired Sybil looked and the ghastly unfashionable clothes, Mary knew the looks of all of her family when they were only pretending to be happy and she knew at once that her baby sister was the first of her whole family to actually be truly happy even though nobody at Downton could comprehend her happiness, not even their mama who tried so hard.

"I suppose he will have to come and make of it what he will," Granny stated in finality. Mary on the other hand started to worry that her disrespect of her sister's marriage might come back to haunt her own some day.


	13. Chapter 13

Sybil had been surprised but glad when Tom had told her that he was putting off his trip to London by a further day, but then once again surprised and less happy to hear he would not be spending it with her. She soon got over herself when she realised that her husband and father were to be making a decided effort to get on and would be chaperoned by two men she liked and respected. A part of her worried about them all racing cars about all afternoon, but the day was a very fine one for this time in spring and she knew that she was feeling over sensitive due to the pregnancy.

She could tell that Edith was just as antsy as she was and they spent most of the day together with their mother. When it came to time to change for dinner Sybil could no longer deny her feelings that Mary was avoiding her lately as it was only she and Edith together amicably chatting. Sybil could tell that there was something on the tip of Edith's tongue but she did not seem to wish to discuss it so she dismissed Anna and tried to coax it out of her.

"You have seemed very restless all day."

"Oh Sybil, I am not meant to tell anyone, but if I do not I think I shall positively burst. But you must promise to tell no-one, not even Tom."

"Of course I promise."

"Anthony proposed."

"And you accepted him." It was a statement rather than a question by the giddy excitement written all over her sister's features which she returned in kind at seeing her with such a glowing radiance.

"It is not official yet, as he still wishes to ask papa's permission and he asked that I tell nobody until he has had a chance to, and then we can announce it together." Sybil managed to supress a feeling of envy that the couple would not be subjected to the same condemnation upon their announcement as she and Tom had been and managed to remain happy for her sister.

"Did he say when he would talk to papa? Do you think he might do so tonight?"

"I had not thought of that. Maybe, but he did say he thought it would be bad form to ask so close to Mary and Matthew's wedding. Perhaps tonight will present itself as an opportunity." They held hands in excited sisterly camaraderie as Mary strode in the room. Upon seeing a moment between the other two sisters of which she took no part she felt suddenly left out as she had numerous times as they were growing up and decided against joining them.

"Are you coming down?" she asked simply as she led the way out of the room and down the stairs.

* * *

As the day progressed for the gentlemen they all had an interesting time and rather enjoyed themselves. Matthew had been telephoned first thing that his car had arrived and he proudly showed it off to an appreciating trio of men. They raced cars around Sir Anthony's estate, looked at the engines and discussed the prospect of actually racing them one day.

Tom managed to hide how self-conscious he was that the Crawleys' new chauffeur was having to hang around all day and not be involved in any way with these cars.

As the day turned into evening and they shared pre-dinner drinks the talk turned to the pretty ladies of the cinema. This sort of open talking would not usually happen for them and felt very liberating, especially for Robert who realised how much he had needed more male company.

But then after dinner Anthony innocently started up on the topic of his investments, not predicting their highly charged nature for the people he was in a room with.

"It seems I pulled my money out of the shipping company in Dublin just in time. I could have lost a packet on these strikes if I hadn't," he informed Robert casually. Of course Tom's ears picked up. Before he had left Ireland his brother, who worked at the docks, had mentioned to him (off the record of course) that he and most of the other dockers were getting fed up of doing any work that aided their English oppressors and planned to strike any day now. Tom had been glad to hear it as he thought it high time, and expressed as much to his brother then and the aristocratic company he was currently within.

"And it is all very well for you sat over here to have your hoards of money protected, but over there men who are standing up for what is right will be losing any chance of receiving enough money to put food into the bellies of their babes." He knew well that his brother's wife was expecting their third child and would not welcome the news of his striking with great enthusiasm, but knew she would try to support it. It was a time that all families were coming together and getting closer as they supported each other more.

Sir Anthony looked stunned at the unexpected verbal slamming he received and was flustered with how to remedy the situation. Should he apologise; though he was not entirely certain what for? He seemed at a loss for words and Robert picked up on it, feeling responsible for putting him in such a position in the first place.

"I am sorry, Sir Anthony…"

"Don't apologise for me!"

"Someone has to." Robert's anger had broken through again as he thought it should be Sybil who was to apologise; she had brought this situation upon them all and it seemed had not schooled her _husband_ in appropriate styles of discussion with men such as Sir Anthony.

"I only said what needs to be heard. You all seem blind while reading the news, now deaf while hearing it too?"

"Gentlemen, I fear we have all taken too much drink tonight. I shall call for the car to be brought round," Matthew tried to still the atmosphere.

"You are so adamant that your way is the only right way aren't you? You, who can barely even dress yourself to not look like you have been dragged off the streets!"

"At least I don't have to be dressed like a child by a man who gets his kicks from seeing men undressed!" Everybody was stunned into silence and no further word was uttered as the car was brought round and the three men left Sir Anthony feeling very guilty for setting the cat amongst the pigeons. Matthew had considered asking the chauffeur to drop him off last, though it made little sense as the car belonged at Downton, but when Tom hopped up in the front passenger seat he decided to leave it and still be dropped off first.

* * *

The women had a quiet dinner between them and decided that their men were probably having a fine time as they had not come back early. Sybil took the chance of her husband being otherwise occupied to excuse herself for an early night and was asleep before the car came back down the driveway.

Cora heard the sounds of the car as she was preparing for bed herself and looked out of the window.

"You had better go, O'Brien," she said in a falsely calm voice seeing her son-in-law in the front of the car and the demeanour of her own husband as he strode from the car into the great house. And she had been right to dismiss her maid as within the minute Robert was already in her room, red in the face.

"His nerve, Cora! How dare _he_ start acting all high and mighty with _us_!?" Cora did not point out that she had not seen him act high and mighty around her, but perhaps it was in response to Robert pushing his buttons.

"I know it is very upsetting, but Sybil is sleeping just down the hallway so please try to quieten your voice slightly."

"She chose this, Cora. If she wakes up thanks to a result of her decisions then she has no-one to blame but herself. Did you know he insinuated that Barrow is… a nancy."

"Do you have any reason to suspect that he is, because if you think so Robert we should probably report him?"

"Well, no, not at all."

"Then think no more on it."

Robert knew his wife was correct but he couldn't help feeling decidedly uncomfortable as his valet undressed him that evening.

* * *

Tom tried to sneak into the room he shared with his wife quietly as he realised her slumbering status, but her eyes opened and watched him as he went into the bathroom. She could tell by the way he held himself that something was wrong and sighed. She could not keep having her father make up and argue, that was Matthew and Mary's remit and tired her so.

As she switched on the bedside lamp she got out her knitting and sat up determined she would improve his mood as he would be departing for London on the morrow and she did not want them to depart in bad tempers. She knew it was time to deploy her trump card and waited for the handle to start turning of the door which separated the bedroom from the bathroom before she started to sing lightly so it could barely be heard.

"_Who'll be the Lady_, Who will be the Lord, _When we are wooed by the love of one another?..."_

Tom stopped short on exiting the bathroom prepared for bed. He had not expected his wife to be awake at all, let alone knitting and singing that song. Immediately he felt his heart melt and every ounce of anger dissipate as the memory of the first time he heard her sing it flashed through his mind.

It had been a matter of days after their arrival in Ireland when he had first decided he should take her out to the local pub. Her reception from his family and friends had been mixed, but the reception to this idea was universally negative (except from his youngest sister, Reagan, who had instantly taken to Sybil who could not see why anyone would dislike her - and the friendship was reciprocated) as they thought the wider area would be less accommodating than they to an English Lady. The look on her face of excitement at the idea had set his mind to it, however, and he convinced the others to join them and to not mention her status to anyone. Of course, they would be able to tell she was English but that could not be helped.

The night had been merry, but Sybil seemed a little uncomfortable and out of place, not helped by his family commenting on this in louder voices than were necessary. His return to Ireland meant that everyone he had known growing up had flooded to the pub to greet him and soon it had turned into a revel with much singing and music playing, but he was accosted by everyone making him have little time to focus on Sybil.

He was just thinking about leaving his own party early to help her escape from it when they room quietened down.

"What about something from Tommy's fine, _English_ bride to be then?" This was said in little more than a sneer from one of Tom's oldest rivals in the day. He was married with five kids now, his wife looking haggard from it and his pockets feeling empty for it. He clearly wanted to embarrass Tom and his pretty fiancée. Everybody's eyes were turned to her, not feeling much sympathy for an Englishwoman, and Tom noticed solely from knowing her so well how uncomfortable she looked, though she held herself well from her upbringing.

Sybil did not much like being centre of attention, but had always made herself rise to the occasion and she supposed it would be good practise for being a bride when you were most definitely centre of attention for the whole day. Her mind remembered the other time when she had been the focus of so many people's gaze was during her season and her presentation to the King and Queen and smiled widely thinking how few people could ever make such a comparison between such differing scenes. She was sure her Granny would collapse knowing that she compared the people in a Dublin pub to the grandest nobility in England.

"Why certainly," she agreed.

"Do you want to borrow an instrument?" The challenge in the man's eyes was clear to her and she met them with a level look showing him he might like to browbeat his own wife but this woman was not for intimidating. She was glad that she had a surprise in her arsenal, albeit a rusty one.

"Could I please borrow somebody's piano accordion?" Tom was even more astonished than the rest of the room and all thoughts of having to rescue her slipped from his mind as he watched her being passed the big and heavy instrument that half dwarfed her. There were numerous guffaws and although he could not see her pulling this off had to admire her gusto. Yes, she probably could play the piano from her privileged upbringing, but even he could see what a different sort of instrument this was.

Little did he know that one of the patients she befriended in the York hospital had had such an instrument and had been devastated by the loss of an arm in the war meaning he thought he would never play again. She had spent her spare time with him showing him he was wrong, playing the accompanying hand as he taught her how to handle it. He was one of the few who knew she was a lady as one day she mentioned how hard it was to be taken seriously if people knew and he was understanding as he sang the song, aided by her, which she sang in the pub and later would sing in the bedroom before her husband.

"_Who'll be the Lady, who will be the Lord, When we are wooed by the love of one another? _

_Who'll be the Lady, who will be the Lord, in the light that is coming in the morning?_

_Sing John Ball and tell it to them all, long live the day that is dawning_

_I will crow like a cock I'll carol like a lark in the light that is coming in the morning."_

As she had finished the fourth and final verse and chorus the room rang out with applause as the sentiment was one commonly held in those parts. She was the first to admit that she was not a good singer, that was Mary, or overly competent on an instrument, that was Edith, and she did not like performing at either, but realised that this did not matter a fig. Her husband looked at her with such a look of pride and love that night as he was slapped on the back in congratulations that it melted her heart back as she looked into his eyes from across the bar.

In the bedroom they shared in Downton which was about the same size as the entire pub in Dublin their eyes locked again in understanding and mutual feeling and he joined in the choruses of her song as he went over to join her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms as she put down her knitting. Thoughts and discussions of an argument with her father were now far from his mind and even further from his mouth as he kissed her tenderly and let himself be sung to sleep for the first time since he was a babe.

**A/N: I hope that none of this chapter offends anybody (as in with Robert) – I was trying to get the voice of someone from the time speaking of homosexuality and words like nancy were commonly used. And I don't mean to portray him as an ogre - I think he would try to do the right thing the whole time but his opinion of what that is differs from mine. :D**


	14. Chapter 14

The following morning Tom and Sybil had discussed the previous night's events as they walked into the village to pick up some newspapers.

Several people had suggested he get them delivered to the house along with the family's but he was not sure how well received the sorts of papers he preferred would be, and he despised the idea of a servant ironing them for him. Sybil had been the one to suggest they make the daily walk into Downton early in the morning, as they tended to rise before anyone else and it would be nice to have a little time away from the house together each day. Besides, he knew she liked the light exercise in her condition so they readily made it their routine.

She had been a little disappointed but had not found the news wholly unexpected and the pair had, by unspoken mutual consent, decided against arguing this morning before he was to leave for a week. She could not help but be thankful that her husband and father would get a little distance, but he would only return a few days before the wedding and felt her concern rise that they would not be amicable enough by that point.

"Tom, I do not mean to sound harsh, but do you think that you should delay your return to Downton until after the wedding?" So, she _was _embarrassed by him his heart shouted as it sank and he let go of her hand. "Don't react like that. I know it is incredibly hard for you, but you have to realise it is for my father too. I do not wish Mary to spend the morning of _her_ wedding upset or weeping from discord amongst the family." She had been far more transparent than she had intentioned and it was the first time he had any idea of her having had such thoughts on the morning of their wedding. It hit him once again what she had sacrificed for him, and how hard she tried to cover up the sadness she occasionally felt. Such a feeling must be increased while back at her childhood home, but he would not be other than he was and he thought she understood that.

"I will not be a sycophant."

"I am not asking you to, I never would. I love the man you are. But I will not stand for conflict on my sister's wedding day, and if you do not feel you can maintain your calm when faced with ignorance from the family's friends, and I cannot deny you shall meet plenty of that, then I do think it would be better that you do not force yourself to face it at all. There would be plenty of reasons you could delay returning from London that people would find plausible."

He longed to not have to attend the wedding except for the fact that he did not wish to leave her alone, especially with her family seeing her amidst more 'eligible' men, and hearing her give him her permission and excuses made him almost agree at once. He also knew he would never live it down from her family, but then again how often did they see each other? Almost never; so he would not cater his life around them

"I shall think about it," he promised lightly with a kiss on the cheek as they were just approaching the main doors of the Abbey. Their attention was alerted to the sound of hooves from a slight distance which surprised them. It was a little early for any of the family to be up, or the dowager countess to come by for a visit, but Sybil supposed it might be Mary exercising some pre-wedding nerves. As they turned to watch the figure riding up the driveway they realised it was a lone man they both recognised as he neared.

"Lady Sybil! We are well met," Evelyn Napier chirped as he took off his hat and smiled before jumping off his horse. "And you must be Mr Branson, a pleasure!" As the men took each other's hands Tom decided he did not like the way he had looked at Sybil, or the way he was sizing him up now. "I am sorry to drop by so early, I was not sure what time Lady Mary was expecting me and the morning was so fine I decided on a ride before breakfast. I have only been staying not ten miles from here so decided to ask when I should arrive in person, but now my horse seems to be playing up. I am not yet used to her and I do not think she likes me riding her just yet."

"Mr Napier, you are more than welcome to join us for breakfast if you are happy in the clothes you are currently wearing. I do not see that my parents would object." Sybil went to fetch Mr Carson so that he might alert a groomsman to care for Evelyn's horse and then the three walked into the dining room. Mary shortly came into the room, more flustered than Sybil could remember ever having seen her, and shared a pointed look with Mr Napier.

The clock striking nine resounded in Sybil's head.

"We had better order you the motor, Tom, or you will miss your train. Come, we had better fetch your case." He nodded to the others as he walked out of the room after her to where they had left his case earlier in the library, asking Carson on the way out to arrange the motor for the station.

"Sybil I don't think I should go."

"Why ever not, Tom?" At the way he looked sheepish and back to the room they had come from she twigged. "Tom Branson, I thought you believed in women's rights. Jealously is opposed to those, suspecting that a woman would be wooed to be unfaithful just because a man like her. Honestly!"

"But he said…"

"Well I am saying that if you trust me then you will think no more on this nonsense. Well, do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then off you go before you miss your train. I love you." They kissed readily on the front doorstep.

"I love you too, darling. I will see you in a week, and I will telephone you tonight." They waved each other off with genuine smiles, though she missed him already.

* * *

As soon as they left Mary and Evelyn went on in hushed whispers.

"I have tried to contact you all week since they arrived. I am so sorry Evelyn but…"

"But I shall never woo your sister from her husband?" Mary looked surprised. "I could see at once how very much they love each other and I am not such a cad as to try to get between a man and his _pregnant_ wife."

"I am sorry, Evelyn."

"Don't be, Mary. It is good that I know so I can put such designs in my past."

"Surely there are other women you like."

"The problem is it is hard to get to know them before they put you off with their desperation. It might sound ungallant of me, but women of our class are throwing themselves at any men left as they have fewer choices. I do not want to be somebody's consolation prize. I want what Lady Sybil and Mr Branson have." Sybil approached the door at the sound of her name after waving off her husband.

"I did not know she was pregnant when I first suggest you come and pay court to her. I am sorry, I feel like such a fool now, but I honestly tried telephoning you several times a day to try to prevent you coming."

"Am I still welcome?"

"Of course, I welcome your being here."

"And do you still wish to hunt for the game for your wedding feast?"

"Tomorrow, thank you." Sybil had heard enough. Usually she would have confronted her sister but did not feel in the mood to do so at the present so decided to go and visit Lynch to check on whether he had found a bicycle. She felt especially miserable at preaching to Tom that morning not to spoil her sister's wedding when it seemed Mary was capable of contemplating ruining her marriage.

As she walked a distance from the servant's courtyard she was aware of Thomas, O'Brien and her grandmama's maid Reed all smoking together but they seemed to be arguing and Reed soon stamped on her cigarette, furiously walking towards the stables where Sybil herself was heading. She stopped to let her have a little headway and looked at Thomas and O'Brien.

O'Brien had been especially rude to the young American maid to get rid of her to inform Thomas of the piece of news regarding him.

"Her Ladyship says that His Lordship thinks you like men."

"What?"

"She told me this morning while I was getting her ready."

"So that's why he has been acting strangely about me. What gave him that idea?" This was about the most panicked O'Brien could remember seeing him, but she totally understood. "Nobody knows except you." He briefly looked accusatorily at her but that was when he looked up and saw Lady Sybil watching them and narrowed his eyes at her before she looked back down and continued to the stables. "And Lady Sybil."

"It seems Branson told him."

"So she did not keep her promise to keep her mouth closed and told her sorry excuse for a husband who then blabbed my own personal affairs? Well, they'll be sorry." His tone was ominous as he stamped on his cigarette and made his way after Sybil to the stables.

"What are you going to do? You won't hurt her, not when she is carrying a child!" O'Brien was beside herself with the thought and Thomas raised his eyebrows at her having no idea what caused the anguished look on her face.

"Nothing to hurt them, Mrs O'Brien. Not physically anyway. Excuse me." She watched him walk to the stables with trepidation.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Huzzah for the start of S3. Thoroughly enjoyed it. But I shall continue this story (at least for now) even though it parts from canon (as was to be expected) as I have a place for it all to go. Anyway, again many thanks for the reviews and favourites and stuff. Particular thanks and good wishes go Shana Rose for your regular comments. You're a champ and a trooper! :D**

Lynch was taken aback that morning for he rarely got so many people coming to the stables other than the lads who helped him with the horses. This was his roost and he liked to rule it absolutely with full barking whenever he wished, but this morning had so many people toing and froing in his realm that he barely knew what to do with himself other than that he had to mind his manners more than was his wont.

He knew that he would have many a story to tell to other members of staff over a cup of tea, but he was never welcome to take tea with _them up at the house_ so they would never hear of it, and he would never deign to talk to the stable boys other than with orders. The only person he had ever really conversed with was Mr Branson the chauffeur as he held a similar role to himself, but now Mr Branson was more a topic of conversation than someone with whom he could chat and his replacement was dour with a wife who disapproved of the stablehand, so they never stuck up a relationship.

His first interruption was fairly early in the morning, far earlier than he was ever troubled for his services usually, but he had been prepared that even he would be hit by the increased tumult connected with Lady's Mary's upcoming nuptials. It seemed a guest had arrived on horseback and he had to take care of his horse, which was hardly a problem as he was up at this time caring for the other horses and hounds anyway.

Not too much later a young woman came in he had never before met. She had a very forward manner so it seemed fitting when she spoke with an American accent.

"Hello there, my name is Reid. I was wondering if I might have a little time with the horses?" She held her hand out to him, and he took it flustered, bemused by the request.

"Well, what do you want to do with them?"

"Just spend time with them, their smell, everything. Perhaps groom one or two of them and feed them apples." She was clearly looking beyond the here and now with a private smile and he did not wish to shatter it. He could sense a longing desperation about her.

"If you wish. No more than one apple per horse. You will find all of the grooming equipment out there. Give me a shout if you need anything."

"Oh, thank you thank you. I was so scared you would not allow it." She beamed at him which made his heart gladden, but he instantly took fright as she gripped his shoulders and pecked his cheek before making off for the horses' lodgings.

His alarm increased as he spotted Lady Sybil standing in the doorway.

"Milady. I didn't … I swear … Miss Reid…"

"It's okay Lynch," she chuckled, "I believe she is as friendly with most people. Isn't she sweet?" Sybil smiled where Miss Reid had exited, her friendly exuberance reminding her of her sister-in-law Reagan. These were women who were aware of their worth in the world as equals of men, and with a power over them they would have to wield responsibly, and Sybil saw the trend increasing almost daily.

"I cannot deny that she is," he said, smiling genuinely at her. He and Lady Sybil had always gotten on well. When waving her eldest sister off for a hunt she would always make sure she came and wished him luck, and after eating some game he had caught she would seek him out the following day to tell him how delicious it was.

"Are you here about the bicycle?"

"I understand if you haven't had a chance…"

"No, I finished oiling it up just last night." He pulled out an old-fashioned bicycle, but it was shining like it was brand new and it was clear he had put a lot of effort into making it just right. "There is a perch on the back for a young child, though I would not put a babe in it."

"That's just perfect, I don't know how I can thank you!" Just the glee on her face was all the gratitude he wished for.

"No kisses!" he said, with a mockingly scared face. She smirked at him.

"May I ask… Is this for you and your child?" She looked a little guilty as if she had gotten him to do the work under false pretences and opened her mouth to correct him.

"No," came a sneering voice instead as Thomas entered the stables. "It is for my intended, Ethel Parks. Perhaps you remember her?" Lynch did not know how to take this news. He did not like having done a favour for Mr Barrow after how he had treated that nice lad, William, who had been so good with the horses. But then he did remember hearing of Ethel and her little lad and how she had fallen on hard times. He supposed she would be falling on harder times getting married to a man like the one before him. The overwhelming thought in his mind, however, was the memory of catching her in the hay bales with a moustached man and he blushed crimson.

"Well, I am glad to make her a wedding gift of it in that case," he politely said, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment and passing the younger man the bike.

Sybil was watching the exchange with a mixture of confusion and elation. Thomas looked at her with a sickening feeling in his stomach; did she really think she could beat him this easily? The look struck her despite the smile which tried to hide it; it was a look which made her understand the reservations Tom had held over trusting the former footman, but she at once kicked herself for her uncharitable thoughts as she followed him out of the stables to have a private word.

"Mr Barrow, do you truly have an understanding with Ethel? She did not know anything of the idea when last I saw her."

"I have not seen her in over a year, but if you would kindly give me her address then I shall seek to enter into such an understanding." She gladly gave him directions to Ethel's and told him when she would be around. He listened as he watched her naively smiling and he mused on how easy it would be as she would never see the hit coming. He still was not sure what it would be, but had no doubt that it would come to him and that it would hit her all the harder for her easy acceptance and trust of him. One thing he knew was that he had to propose to Ethel today and bring her into his fold. He did not expect it would be too hard to accomplish; she had her merits and was not a complete fool despite events that suggested otherwise, but she was nowhere near matching of him where wits were concerned.

"Thank you. Your father is down at breakfast," he added as he rode off down the lane.

Sybil pondered over the last sentence, thinking he might be indicating that he wished her presence at the breakfast table, and the thought that he would welcome her so made her happy. But at once she told herself not to get her hopes up; that could well not be what Mr Barrow had meant, and if he had it could be for all manner of reasons. Mainly she supposed her father wanted as many people buffering him from her grandmamma who was evidently also down as Miss Reid was in the stables. He would also no doubt make not so subtle comments on the recent departure of her husband of which he would clearly be desirous.

She had just about decided to not rejoin the breakfast table when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Lady Sybil. Did your husband depart well?"

"He did, thank you Mr Napier." He had removed his hat as he came to stand by the stable door she was hovering by. Her tone was obviously frosty. "But he will always be my husband, however many miles separate us." His face displayed evidence that he understood her meaning.

"I hope you can believe me when I say I am sorry to have ever entertained the notion, but that all though of removing your affections from your husband has evaporated from my mind." She did not look appeased. "Besides, from seeing the pair of you together, I do not think that anybody would ever be successful in such an enterprise, from either side."

"Does not stop my sister from trying."

"Now, please do not be so harsh on her; she is being harsh enough on herself as it is."

"And so she should be."

"She would never defend herself with weak excuses, but in truth the night we discussed it we had both sampled far, far too many cocktails and I do not think she was acting on her own impulse in the first place."

"That doesn't forgive…"

"You have to know that Mary misses you terribly. She always knew you would marry, but had hoped it would be a man in our circle … no, please listen … a man in our circle, not because she did not believe you could be happy elsewhere but more because she wished to always be able to see you at society functions and all through the season in London. She never entertained the idea that you would be so distant in every way and she has found it hard adapting to it. More than that, she worries terribly for you every day. I see it in her eyes when she speaks of you, and must say that I am surprised how informed she is of affairs in Ireland. She clearly has read a lot and often of the situation, which is unusual for her in my experience."

What he said struck a chord with Sybil. She was not fully appeased after what had occurred, but realised she had not considered Mary's feelings about her marriage on this level before, instead solely fixating on the assumed prejudice of an interclass marriage. It seemed she had been a little prejudiced of her sister in this instance and chided herself for it.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr Napier. I hope you are not leaving us? I know Mary was hoping to hunt with you some time soon?"

"As long as you are content with my remaining then I shall ride back and collect my belongings. I shall return before dinner tonight."

"But of course." They smiled at each other lightly, both embarrassed from revelations of the morning, and Sybil left to return to the house as Mr Napier went to see his horse.

He had expected to see Lynch, but the man had hidden in his office so as not to appear to be eavesdropping, though his window opened directly on where they had been speaking. Instead he walked directly out the back to see his horse and was surprised to see a woman with her eyes closed and her head resting on his horse's head, slightly stroking behind his ear. He was not entirely sure how to proceed so cleared his throat.

"I am sorry to startle you." But she did not appear startled as she serenely stepped back from the horse keeping her eyes fixed on its face.

"Don't you just love horses?" She asked as she looked over at him briefly before returning her gaze to the animal. In the glance he caught the merest hint of tears.

"I certainly don't dislike them, though I have never tried using one as a pillow." He tried to keep his tone light to not embarrass her, as he felt she would surely be embarrassed despite her appearances to the contrary as she chuckled at his words.

"I just like breathing them in, experiencing them. This one is so young and restless I can feel all of his pent up energy."

"Yes, he is very feisty I will give him that." She smiled at him as he clearly knew the animal. She took in his clothes and wondered whether it was the outfit of someone who worked there or not. It seemed to her that the stuffiness of servants and their masters in England were not obviously differentiated.

"My granddaddy raised me out west all by himself. He was a cowboy in the wild west and had such amazing stories. He even met Billy the Kid once, believe it or now. Now the horses on our ranch, they were more than feisty. I do not think they would let one of those anywhere near an Englishperson. None of you would not be able to handle them." He smiled at her, but his retort was not the macho bravado she had anticipated of claiming he could tame any animal.

"Where is your grandfather now?" She was taken aback as she could not remember ever discussing her granddaddy since his passing.

"He died when I was fifteen. His lawyers swindled me out of inheriting the ranch – well, basically stole it from me. I had no choice but to enter service. Don't have that pitying look, it is not so bad out there as it is for you over here. How long have you worked in the stables?"

Evelyn found this woman intriguing and wished he did not have to shatter her illusion that he was of the same class as she, though it was not in his nature to lie.

"I don't work here, I am a guest. That is my horse and I need to ride back to a friend's house to collect my belongings." The expected reaction was of being flustered and bowing and scraping to him, but none of that happened.

"Oh, I do not mean to detain you."

"Not at all, I am finding this conversation very interesting, Miss…?"

"Reid. Elizabeth Reid. And you are?"

"Evelyn Napier."

"No title?"

"_The Right Honourable_," he mocked lightly. "I do not suppose you would care to ride out with me? I am sure the Crawleys would not mind lending us one of their horses."

"Are you sure it is seemly for a _Right Honourable_ gentleman to ride around the English countryside with an American servant?" she winked at him, making it aware to him that she could not care a fig for what was considered seemly. He knew he could get in a lot of trouble for this from his family, but he had suffered a disappointment this morning and figured he deserved a break from being _Right Honourable_.

"I think a cowgirl can do whatever she pleases. As long as it would not get you in trouble with your mistress."

"She would not mind, as long as I recount her every detail of my adventure. I had better go and let her know."

"Excellent. I shall arrange for your horse in the meantime. I am afraid they have none of your American saddles here."

"Then I shall ride English, but none of that side saddle nonsense!" He saluted her as she skipped off to the main house through the side door.

He went to the door into the office area and accidentally slammed it into Lynch's face. Napier apologised at once, though both knew it should have been Lynch who should apologise for having been eavesdropping but neither would think of mentioning it. Lynch was however thereafter very helpful in getting the two horses ready for the man and the woman who was now strolling confidently up from the house in a pair of breeches.

Yes, today had been an interesting day for him, Lynch pondered alone in his office sipping a cup of tea smugly after the pair had ridden off racing each other down the driveway.


End file.
